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TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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1.4   11.6 


HiotDgraiiiic 

Sciences 

Corporalion 


V 


23  WfST  MAIN  STRUT 

WIBSTiR,N.Y.  14SS0 

(716)«72-4503 


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CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
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20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


rwiUBIHH 


^'■"^'mmmmmmmmmilg/ggttKi 


mm 


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fttails 
18  du 
lodifier 
T  une 
Image 


98 


errata 
to 


>  pelure. 
Dn  A 


D 

32X 


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1  2  3 


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empreinte. 

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cas:  le  symbols  —^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 

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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  ie  nombre 
d'images  nAcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  ia  mAthode. 


1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

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:i^'^'/;'~.-i*^r-<  ^             -  '"    -^i^^^^^^^l 

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1 

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'  ^ 

THE  AIM   OF  LIFE 


A' 

IS, 


'/•>'■• 


t 


s 


i  ' 


THE  AIM  OF  LIFE 


PLAIN  TALKS  TO  YOUNG  MEN 
AND  WOMEN 


BY 


/ 


PHILII*  STAFFORD  MOXOM 


i ' 


BOSTON 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS 

1894 


■■■"■^V'-Bi«te(r«waB»jW(jljBljB(li|iihliliilB^^    hVp 


f-sara 


^^^P 


Copyright,  f894. 
Bv  Roberts  Brothbis. 


/Z-3^fy^ 


Vnibnittg  Ihtw: 
John  Wilsok  and  Son,  Cambridob,  U.S.A. 


^' 


t? 


kS. 


TO 


MY  FATHER  AND   MOTHER 


ftlDGB,  U.S.A. 


II  f-iMwHmmtmmMiumi 


PREFACE. 


nPHIS  little  volume  is  composed  of  addresses 
which  were  delivered  to  audiences,  mainly 
of  young  people,  in  Cleveland  and  Boston.  I 
have  deemed  it  best  not  to  change  their  style, 
but  to  send  them  forth  as  they  were  spoken. 
The  simple  directness  of  counsel  and  appeal 
which  marks  them  as  addresses  will  aid  rather 
than  hinder  their  usefulness. 

To  myself  all  of  these  addresses  are  fragrant 
with  tender  and  ineffaceable  memories  of  the 
many  young  people  for  whom  they  were  first 
written,  and  freighted  with  warm  affection  for 
the  many  other  young  people  to  whom  they  were 
last  spoken.  In  the  love  and  sympathy  of  all 
these  responsive  hearers,  I  have  found  continual 
comfort  and  inspiration  in  my  work- 


Boston,  1893. 


■W^ 


i 


IJ 


■i 


/- 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter 

1.    The  Aim  of  Life 


II.    Character     .... 

III.  Habit 

IV.  Companionship    .    .    • 
V.    Temperance    .... 

Debt 

The  True  Aristocracy 
Education      .... 
Saving  Time  .... 

Charity 

Ethics  of  Amusements 

XII.    Reading 

XIII.    Orthodoxy     .... 


VI. 

VII. 

VIII. 

IX, 

X 

XI 


Pagb 
II 

26 

54 
.  77 
.  101 
.     123 

.  145  , 

.  164 

.  189 

.  210 

.  230 

.  251 

.  278 


.^■■u..  .r  ■ 


f 


THE    AIM    OF    LIFE. 


That  life  is  long  which  answers  life's  great  end.  —  Young. 

Life 's  but  a  means  unto  an  end ;  that  end, 

Beginning,  mean,  and  end  to  aU  things,  —  God.  —  Bailey. 

Nor  love  thy  life,  nor  hate  j  but  what  thou  liv'st 

live  well ;  how  long  or  short  permit  to  heaven.  —  MiLTOM. 

Fear  God  and  keep  his  commandments,  for  this  is  the  whole 
duty  of  man.  —  Ecclksiastes. 

life  is  a  misrion.  Every  other  definition  of  life  is  false,  and 
leads  aU  who  accept  It  astray.  Religion,  science,  philosophy, 
though  still  at  variance  upon  many  points,  all  agree  in  this,— 
that  every  existence  is  an  aim.  —  Mazzini. 

Love  not  pleasure ;  love  God.  This  is  the  Everlasting  Yea 
wherein  all  contradiction  is  solved;  wherein  whoso  walks  and 
works,  it  is  well  with  him.  —  Caklyls. 

IT  is  the  high  distinction  of  man  that  he  is 
capable  of  living  with  an  aim,  —  that  is,  with 
a  purpose  which,  reaching  through  all  his  life, 
unifies  it,  and  gives  it  directness  and  force.  An 
aim  in  life  is  impossible  to  creatures  that  have 
not  reason.  It  would  be  impossible  to  man  if 
he  were  an  automaton,  —  if  he  were  not  a 
rational,  free  personality,  havings  duty  and  a 
destiny.    There  is,  then,  a  singular  abdication 


'"*>9*^''*>^w«*" "  S**^  i*-»f-»- 


!  I 


12  The  Aim  of  Life. 

of  his  real  dignity  by  the  man  whose  life  is 
without  purpose;  and  there  is  no  more  serious 
and  important  matter  for  the  young  to  consider 
than  just  this  one  of  life's  aim.  It  is  important 
because  it  intimately  concerns  success,  and.  still 
more,  because  it  concerns  the  formation  and 
development  of  character. 

I  wish  you  to  think  of  this  whole  subject  with 
a  new  seriousness  and  force.  Life  is  tremendous 
in  its  possibilities.  More  than  half  the  battle  for 
true  success  is  won  in  beginning  right.  I  do 
not  ask  now,  what  is  your  aim  in  life?  That 
question  we  shall  mutually  consider  a  little  later. 
Let  us  first  think  about  the  general  question. 

The  aim  of  life  includes  both  an  object  or  end 
toward  which   the    life  moves,  and  a  purpose 
which  impels  to  that  end.     By  this  phrase  I 
now  mean  the  supreme  object  and  the  rulmg 
purpose  of  life.    One  may  have  many  minor 
and  subordinate   aims;  he  can  have  but  one 
supreme  aim,  and  from  this  supreme  aim  all 
the  others  take  their  real  character.    Our  aim 
in  life  is  that  object  or  end  which  draws  to  itself 
our   highest  thought   and    aspiration   and   en- 
deavor;    and  it  is  that   purpose  which,  con- 
sciously  or  unconsciously,  makes  the    strong 
mid-current  in  the  stream  of  our  activity  that 
ever  moves  onward,  however  many  may  be  the 


whose  life  is 
I  more  serious 
ng  to  consider 
t  is  important 
ccess,  and,  still 
formation  ana 

)le  subject  with 
;  is  tremendous 
If  the  battle  for 
ig  right.    I  do 
in  life?     That 
ler  a  little  later. 
ral  question, 
in  object  or  end 
and  a  purpose 
r  this  phrase   I 
and  the  ruling 
ve  many  minor 
1  have  but  one 
upreme  aim  all 
acter.    Our  aim 
;h  draws  to  itself 
iration   and   en- 
>se  which,   con- 
ikes  the    strong 
our  activity  that 
nany  may  be  the 


TAe  Aim  of  Life. 


<3 


eddies  and  transient  back-currents  that  perplex 
the  stream's  margin.  The  aim  of  life  is  that 
which  creates  life's  tendency,  and  supremely 
determines  conduct. 

The  real  aim  of  life,  let  me  remind  you,  is 
not  always  the  apparent  aim ;   for  men  are  often 
self-deceived  as  to  their  chief  end,  and  often 
others  are  deceived  by  them.    But  conduct,  in 
the  long  run,  must  be  consistent  with  our  ruling 
purpose,  for  it  is  this  which  qualifies,  and  directs 
conduct.    What  you  are  supremely  living  for 
determines  the  course  you  are  taking  year  in 
and  year  out      For  example,  there  are  two 
main  directions  either  of  which  your  life  may 
pursue :   one  is  toward  the  good ;  the  other  is 
toward  the  evil.    A  stone  thrown  from  the  hand 
goes  up  or  down ;   it  never  keeps  a  horizontal 
line.      Gravitation  pulls  it  toward  the  earth; 
the  moment  it  leaves  the  hand  gravitation  be- 
gins to  overcome  the  upward  propulsion  and  at 
last  is  completely  victorious.    The  track  of  the 
stone  is  a  curve  the  farther  end  of  which  rests 
on  the  ground.     In  the  realm  of  the  moral  life 
there  are  only  two  tendencies  and  directions, 
upward  and  downward,  —  the  gravitation  toward 
the  evil,  and  the  attraction  or  propulsion  toward 
the  good    You  can  find  in  God's  universe  no 
neutral  course  for  a  moral  being.    There  may 


€ 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


L":r^Xbut"  trl^thas  adeanite 
Tend  ^his  way  or  that.  The  <iefinite  trcn^^^^^^^  , 
your  life  discovers  your  real  a.m;  .V^"  """^^ 
disguise  it  except  transiently  It  is  not  some^ 
thine  outside  of  you,  compeUmg  you  this  way 
or  that ;  it  is  you.  -  the  complex  of  your  genenc 
choices  and  volitions.  .  «f  ti^n-se  trite 

I  dwell  on  this  because  it  is  one  of  those  tnte 
yet  tremendous  truths  which  so  many  forget  or 
Lno^,  and  which  has  such  vital  consequences 
n  the  destiny  of  the  soul.     Always  you  are 
llg  somewhither,  always  you  are  becoming 
Tmewhat;    and  the  direction  which  you  are 
Xukin'g.  the  character  which  you  are  now 
forming,  becoming  fixed,  the  -ccess  or  failure 
of  your  life  is  unchangeably  determined. 

That  is  the  most  critical  moment  in  your  expe- 
Hen^^':hen  you  consciously  -d  del«.rate^ 
ask:  "Whither  am  I  going;  what  an^I  becom 
ing  in  thought  and  feeling  and  character? 

Then  if  ever,  is  the  choice  made,  the  purpose 
formed,  whih  henceforth  makes  your  life-story 

ty  to  read.  Many  yo-g  ,I-ople  ^^ep  f^ 
the'threshold  of  responsible  life,  and  amid  the 
multitude  of  eager  ^elf-questiomogs  tha  r«e  m 
their  hearts  the  one   chief  question  scarcely 


e's  tendency,  — 
a  crooked  and 
it  has  a  definite 
efinite  trend  of 
m;  you  cannot 
It  is  not  some- 
ig  you  this  way 
:  of  your  generic 

>ne  of  those  trite 
3  many  forget  or 
:al  consequences 
Always  you  are 
ou  are  becoming 

which  you  are 
ich  you  are  now 
success  or  failure 
:termined. 
lent  in  your  expe- 

and  deliberately 
what  am  I  becom- 
1  character?  " 
made,  the  purpose 
kes  your  life-story 
people  step  upon 
life,  and  amidthe 
ioniogs  that  rise  in 

question  scarcely 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


15 


appears.  They  ask,  "  How  can  I  best  earn  a 
living?  What  trade  or  profession  shall  I  learn? 
What  business  shall  I  follow?  How  can  I  get 
an  education?  How  can  I  secure  pleasure? 
How  can  I  make  a  fortune?"  Bi»t  deeper  than 
all  these  is  the  one  question  that  gives  meaning 
to  all  the  rest:  "  What  am  I  living  for  f  What 
shall  be  the  supreme  purpose  and  result  of  my 

life?" 

The  thoughts  that  I  wish  to  present  to  you 
now  gather  themselves  naturally  about  three 
simple  propositions :  — 

I.  The  first  of  these  is  :  Every  one  ought  con- 
sciously to  have  an  aim  in  life.  Whether  he 
is  conscious  of  it  or  not,  every  one  has  a  ruling 
tendency;  but  every  one  should  have  a  con- 
trolling and  persistent  purpose  in  life.  No  one 
has  a  fight  to  live  aimlessly,  for  no  one  has  a 
right  to  abandon  reason  and  self-control,  and 
consent  to  be  a  mere  waif  drifting  hither  and 
thither  like  some  plaything  of  the  winds.  We 
are  endowed  with  powers  that  make  us  capable 
of  good  and  often  great  achievement.  We  are 
gifted  with  reason  and  conscience  and  will,  in 
order  that  we  may  both  become  and  do  that 
which  is  noble  and  beneficent. 

'<  For  what  are  men  better  than  sheep  or  goata. 
That  nourish  a  blind  life  within  the  brain," 


The  Aim  of  Life- 


it 

if  they  live  without  any  purpose  that  is  essen- 
taly  hgher  than  the  instincts  which  promp 
them  to  L  and  sleep  and  propagate  the.r  kmd  ? 
nTh    mythology  of  the  Greeks  Phaeihon- 
earthly  son  of  Helios,  aspired  to  drive  the  flam- 
ing chariot  of  the  sun.    The  task  was  beyond 
Z  human  powers,  and  his  <»-st-us  ^h^^^ 
was  expiated  by  his  death  by  a  bolt  hurled  from 
r  hand  of  Zeus;  but  the  Naiads,  who  buned 
him,  wrote  in  his  epitaph:  — 

«  He  could  not  rule  his  father's  car  of  fire ; 
■  Yet  was  it  much  so  nobly  to  aspure. 

He  is  not  worthy  to  live  who  only  vegetates ; 
he  doe^  not  truly  live  who  drifts  aimlessly 
through  the  years  from  youth  to  age.  Indeed 
he  whose  aim  is  even  lower  than  the  highest 
less  than  the  greatest,  is  nobler  than  he  who  has 
no  conscious  purpose  in  life. 

But.  besides  being  ignoble,  a  purpose  ess  hfe 
is  inefficient;  to  aim  at  nothing  is  to  hit  noth- 
neThe   cannon-ball  strikes  somewhere    in- 
dexed, though  the  cannon  be  fired  at  random. 
So  each  of  us  is  moving  toward  some  end. 
ti^ough  that  end,  undetermined  by  choice  and 
3  endeavor,  demonstrates  ^^^^^^^^^^ 
failure  of  a  life.    Each  soul  should  be.  not  the 
missile  aimlessly  flung  upon  destiny  by  external 


dfe. 

>se  that  is  essen- 
ts  which  prompt 
)agate  their  kind  ? 
eks,  Phaethon,  an 
to  drive  the  flam- 
task  was  beyond 
lisastrous  rashness 
a  bolt  hurled  from 
Jaiads,  who  buried 

er's  car  of  fire  j^ 
to  aspire." 

vho  only  vegetates; 
no  drifts    aimlessly 
th  to  age.    Indeed, 
r  than  the  highest, 
»ler  than  he  who  has 

le,  a  purposeless  life 
thing  is  to  hit  noth- 
ikes  somewhere,  in- 
be  fired  at  random, 
r  toward  some  end, 
tiined  by  choice  and 
:rates  the  futility  and 
ul  should  be,  not  the 
»n  destiny  by  external 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


17 


forces,  —  not  the  ball  that  flies  wildly  to  an 
unperceived  mark,  —  but  the  gunner  that  aims 
his  piece,  or  rather,  as  if  he  were  gunner  and 
ball  in  one,  and  with  conscious  purpose  and 
inherent  propulsive  force,  speed  onward  to  a 
definite  goal.  /Many  a  man  falls  short  of  that 
at  which  he  almed,^nd  some  men  attain  more 
or  other  than  the'  specific  object  which  they 
sought ;  but  no  one  who  has  lived  with  a  pur- 
pose has  failed  of  a  certain  efficiency.  /  The 
dreary  and  desert  hell  of  utter  failure  is  reserved 
for  the  soul  that  has  not  lived,  but  existed 
without  aim./ 

Of  first  iihpoptance,  then,  in  the  considera- 
tion of  the  question  as  to  what  your  life  shall 
be,  is  the  fact  that  you  cannot  avoid  moving 
toward  some  end,  good  or  bad,  and  that  it  is 
your  duty  to  move  consciously  in  the  line  of  a 
clearly  defined  purpose. 

2.  The  second  proposition  that  I  would  present 
to  you  is :  The  supreme  aim  of  life  should  be  con- 
sonant with  the  nature  and  capabilities  of  the 
whole  man.  The  chief  end  sought  should  be 
such  as  to  bring  to  their  highest  development 
all  our  powers,  mental  and  spiritual.  It  should 
be  comprehensive  enough  to  include  all  right 
temporal  ends,  and  of  such  moral  excellence 
and  attractive  force  as  to  subordinate  to  itself  in 


^ 


i8  The  Aim  of  Life. 

complete  harmony  all  the  limitless  detail  of  our 
daily  choices,  plans,  and  endeavors. 

It  is  a  principle  of  practical  ethics  that  every 
man  should  aim  to  do  some  one  thing  m    h.s 
world  supremely  well;    and  in  order  to  atum 
the  highest  efficiency,  it  is  necessary  that  each 
should  do  that  for  which,  by  temperament  and 
training,  he  is  best  fitted.    There  is  a  natural 
division  of  labor  indicated  by  natural  aptitudes, 
one   man  is   born  with  a  special  apt.tude  for 
trade,  another  for  invention,  another  for  teach- 
ing, another  for  mechanics,  another  for  persua- 
sion and  argument.     No  man  can  do  all  thmg^. 
or  even  many  things,  equally  well;    efficency 
inexorably   demands    concentration    of    effort. 
Definiteness  of  aim  in  life's  work  is  a  chief  fac- 
tor in  successful  achievement.     Aimless  effort  is 
fruitless  effort,  save  as  it  is  fruitful  in  mischief, 
like  the  action  of  an  idiot  or  a  madman.     His- 
tory and  experience  abound  in  illustrations  of 
this  truth.    The  failure  of  many  a  business  man 
is  clearly  traceable  to  his  lack  of  concentration 
upon   some  one  line.    The   manufacturer  who 
dabbles  in  stocks,  and  cultivates  margins  in  oil 
and  wheat,  will,  as  the  rule,  soon  find  himself 
with  a  depreciated  credit  and  a  short  account 
at  the  bank.    The  majority  of  men.  if  they 
would  succeed,  must  be  content  to  do  one  thing 
and  to  do  that  with  all  their  might. 


ife. 

less  detail  of  our 
avors. 

ethics  that  every 
one  thing  in  this 
n  order  to  attain 
cessary  that  each 
temperament  and 
[lere  is  a  natural 
natural  aptitudes : 
ecial  aptitude  for 
another  for  teach- 
nother  for  persua- 
I  can  do  all  things, 
ly  well;   efficiency 
itration    of    effort, 
irork  is  a  chief  fac- 
.     Aimless  effort  is 
fruitful  in  mischief, 
r  a  madman.    His- 
l  in  illustrations  of 
any  a  business  man 
ck  of  concentration 

manufacturer  who 
ates  margins  in  oil 
;,  soon  find  himself 
nd  a  short  account 
y  of  men,  if  they 
tent  to  do  one  thing 
;ir  might. 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


19 


If  you  are   fitted  to  be   a  mechanic,  be  a 
mechanic,  and    such    a  mechanic    that    those 
about  you  will  find  your  services  indispensable. 
If  you  arc  fitted  to  make  shoes,  make  shoes,  and 
such  shoes  as  all  the  world  will  wish  to  walk 
in.      If  you  are  fitted  to  be  a  farmer,  be  a 
farmer,  and  with  such  assiduity  and  skill  that 
the  earth  will  give  to  you  as  to  a  master  the 
meed  of  her  most  abundant  harvests.     Be  ar- 
tisan, be  engineer,  be  merchant,  be  lawyer,  be 
physician,  be  teacher,  be  artist,  be  poet,  be  a 
worker,  a  producer  of  values,  a  true  servant  of 
your  fellow-men,  —  and,^whatever  you  do.  do 
that    with    all    your    eriergy;/  only   thus    can 
you  hope  to  attain  any  temporal  success  worth 

having. 

But,  remember,  the  main  business  of  life  is 
not  to  do,  but  to  become ;  and  action  itself  has 
its  finest  and  most  enduring  fruit  in  character. 

All  these  ends  in  the  sphere  of  utility  are 
relative ;  they  are  not  ultimate.  No  man  has  a 
right  to  be  a  mere  tool,  a  mere  wheel  or  spindle 
in  the  great  manufactory  of  the  world ;  and  no 
man  can  rest  with  lasting  satisfaction  in  the 
achievement  of  any  material  end.  He  whose 
entire  mind  is  concentrated  on  some  temporal 
object,  who  seeks  only  success  in  business,  or 
eminence  at  the  bar,  or  fame  in  literature,  will 


ao  The  Aim  of  Life. 

find  at  last  that  there  are  capabilities   in   his 
nature  for  which  he  has  not  provided.     He  may 
reach  what  he  aimed  at.  — wealth,  power,  pleas- 
ure, fame,  i— and  be.  after  all,  essentially  a  poor 
creature.     No  earthly  and   selfish   pursuit  can 
absorb  the  whole  of  a  man's  thought  and  desire 
without  doing  him  irreparable  harm.y  What  is 
more  pitiable  than  a  rich  man  with  a  little  soul, 
or  a  learned  man  with  a  starved  and  shrivelled 
heart?     Manhood  is  of  more  worth  than  money ; 
character  is  more  precious  than  craft   or  skill. 
Fulness  of  being  is  superior  to  cncyclopjtdic 
learning;     the   graces    of  gentleness  and   pity 
and  love  are  more  beautiful  than  all  the  accom- 
plishments of  art.     Integrity  and   wisdom   and 
chivalrous  temper  are   better  than   power  and 
fame     To  be  a  capable  artisan,   a  successful 
salesman,  a  great  financier,  an  eloquent  orator, 
a  brilliant  writer,  or  an  accomplished  teacher  is 
of  much  less   importance   than  to  be   a  true, 
whole  man.  a  true,  whole  woman.     Completeness 
in  life  is  attained  only  in  the  line  of  some  aim 
which,  including  any  or  every  temporary  end, 
and  giving  it  worth,  reaches  beyond  earth  and 
time  to  find  its  full  scope  in  the  eternal  life  of 

the  soul. 

3.  Our  discussion  has  prepared  us  now  lor 
the  third  proposition:  The  one  aim  which  fulfils 


'^ 


The  Aim  of  L  ife. 


31 


ipabilitics  in  his 
ovided.  He  may 
ilth,  power,  pleas- 
essentially  a  poor 
Ifish  pursuit  can 
lought  and  desire 
!  harm.y  What  is 

with  a  little  soul, 
ed  and  shrivelled 
orth  than  money ; 
lan  craft   or  skill. 

to  encyclopsedic 
ntleness  and  pity 
lan  all  the  acconi- 

and  wisdom  and 
:  than  power  and 
tisan,  a  successful 
1  eloquent  orator, 
nplished  teacher  is 
lan  to  be  a  true, 
an.  Completeness 
;  line  of  some  aim 
try  temporary  end, 

beyond  earth  and 
I  the  eternal  life  of 

epared  us  now  for 
me  aim  which  fulfils 


all  the  conditions  of  a  perfect  aim  is  that  indi- 
cated   \r\   the    familiar   words,   "  Fear   God  and 
keep  His  cotnmatidmenls,  for  this  is  the  whole 
duty  of  man."     Let  us  interpret  largely,  for  in 
religion  and  morals  the  large  interpretation   is 
always    the   most  likely   to   be    right.     "  Fear 
God,"  —  that  is,  believe  in  God  with  the  reverence 
that  is  the  soul  of  true  worship,  and  the  love 
that  is  the  spring  of  true  obedience.      "  Fear 
God  and  keep  His  commandments"  is  the  com- 
prehensive  formula  of  practical  righteousness, 
"  for,"  as  the  wise  man  pithily  adds,  "  this   is 
the  whole  duty  of  man."     Here  are  presented 
both  object  and  purpose  great  enough  to  com- 
prehend  the  entire  range  of  human  aspiration 
and  endeavor.     You  may  think  long  and  care- 
fully and  you  will  not  be  able  to  conceive  and 
formulate  an  aim  higher  and  broader  than  this. 
(I.)   It  is  the  highest  conceivable,  for  God  is 
the  ultimate  Excellence ;  He  is  the  source  and 
sovereign  and  goal   of  life.     He  is  supremely 
holy;     to    serve   Him   perfectly  is  to  become 
like  Him,  therefore  to  attain  the  highest  excel- 
lence.    He  is  sui-icmely  good,  therefore  to  love 
Him  perfectly  is  to  attain  the  greatest  blessed- 
ness.    He  is  supremely  wise,  therefore  to  obey 
Him  perfectly  is  to  be  in  absolute  security,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  be  in  the  realm  of  absolute 


I! 


22  The  Aim  of  Life. 

liberty,  /it  is  the  nature  of  man  to  grow  like 
him  whom  he  devotedly  serves.  /  God  is  the 
absolute  ideal  of  moral  beings.  'The  goal  of 
the  finite  spirit  is  likeness  to  the  Infinite  Spirit 
and  participation  in  the  infinitude  of  His  beauty 
and  power  and  joy;  t  aim  at  less  than  this  is 
to  sink  below  the  noblest  and  divinest  possibility 
of  our   nature,  which  derives  its  being  from 

*(2 )  This  aim  is  the  broadest  conceivable,  for 
it  includes  all  that  is   good.    It  is  consonant 
with   our  whole  nature:    it  brings   under  one 
perfect  law  body,  mind,  and  spirit,  and  thus 
co-ordinates  all  our  capacities  and  powers.     For 
God  calls  a  man  to  be  upright  and   pure  and 
generous,  but  He  also  calls  him  to  be  intelligent 
and  skilful  and  strong  and  brave.    You   can 
have  no  excellence  of  mind  or  heart,  or  of  body 
even,  which  has  not  place  in  the  true  ideal  of 
godliness.    You  can  have  no  grace  of  person, 
or  power  of  hand  and  brain,  that  has  not  place 
and  use  in  God's  scheme  of  human  life.    There 
is  thus  the  widest  scope  for  a  true  ambition. 
There  is  nothing  that  it  is  right  to  do,  and  that  is 
worth  doing  well,  but  will  be  done  better  when 
the  motive  does  not  exhaust  itself  in  the  specific 
achievement,  but  goes  on  to  God.  thus  making 
the  achievement  a  tribute  to  him.     Adam  Bede 


KSm^mi^mimnmiMiism 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


23 


an  to  grow  like 
es.  /  God  is  the 
(.  'The  goal  of 
le  Infinite  Spirit 
de  of  His  beauty 
less  than  this  is 
ivinest  possibility- 
its  being  from 

t  conceivable,  for 

It  is  consonant 
rings  under  one 

spirit,  and  thus 
ind  powers.  For 
ht  and  pure  and 
n  to  be  intelligent 
brave.  You  can 
■  heart,  or  of  body 

the  true  ideal  of 

grace  of  person, 
hat  has  not  place 
uman  life.    There 

a  true  ambition. 
it  to  do,  and  that  is 

done  better  when 
tself  in  the  specific 

God,  thus  making 
him.     Adam  Bede 


rightly  thought  that,  "  Good  carpentry  is  God's 
will,"  and  that  "  scamped  work  of  any  sort  is  a 
moral  abomination;  "  and  he  was  wiser  than  he 
knew  when  he  said:  "  I  know  a  man  must  have 
the  love  o'  God  in  his  soul,  and  the  Bible's  God's 
word.    But  what  does  the  Bible  say?    Why,  it 
says  as  God  put  His  sperrit  into  the  workman  as 
built  the  tabernacle,  to  make  him  do  all  the 
carved  work  and  things  as  wanted  a  nice  hand. 
And  this  is  my  way  o'  looking  at  it :  there 's  the 
sperrit  o"  God   in  all  things  and  all  times  — 
week-day  as  well  as  Sunday  — and  i'  the  great 
works   and  inventions,  and  i'  the  figuring  and 
the  mechanics.     And   God   helps  us  with  our 
head-pieces  and  our  hands  as  well  as  with  our 
souls;  and  if  a  man  does  bits  o*  jobs   out  o 
working  hours,  —  builds  a  oven  for 's  wife  to  save 
her  from  going  to  the  bakehouse,  or  scrats  at 
his  bit  o"  garden  and  makes  two  potatoes  grow 
instead  of  one,— he 's  doing  more  good,  and  he  's 
just  as  near  to  God  as  if  he  was  running  after 
some  preacher  and  a-praying  and  a-groaning." 
There  is  the  best  sort  of  practical  theology  in 
these  homely  phrases.    The  service  of  God  is 
not  something  apart  from  the  daily  life ;   it  is 
the  daily  life  motived  with  true  piety.     Do  you 
covet  excellence  in  any  work?    Do  that  work 
for  God,  and  your  motive,  purified  and  spirit- 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


ualized,  will  be  reinforced  by  the  finest  forces  m 
your  nature;  your  aspiration  will  become  m- 
spiration.  and  you  will  push  your  work  w.th  a 

glad  enthusiasm. 

Commerce,  mechanics,  statesmanship,  htera 
ture  and  art  are  all  consecrated  m  the  thought 
I"  him  who  works  for  God  Think  you  Angeo 
did  not  reach  nobler  results  because  he  carved 
his  own  faith  in  forms  of  breathmg  "l^-'ble.  and 
painted  it  abroad  in  the  glory  of  ^'s  frescos 
Think  you  Hugh  Miller  read  the  story  of  the 

Lcks  less  eagedy  and  carefullyj>ec-se  .^^ 
that  he  was  reading  the  thoughts  of  God  writ 
en  deep  in  the  strata  of  the  earth?    Thmkyou 
Carey    made   poorer  shoes   because  while  he 
sSed  and  hammered  at  his  cobbler's-bench 
h    love  of  God  made  melody  in  his  heart,  and 
great    schemes  of  missionary  enterprise  took 
fhape  in  his  mind?    My  young  friends,  the  true 
se^ice  of  God  is  so  broad,   so   mspmng   so 
strong  and  pure  in  its  motives,  that  by  it  all  life 
s  Ufted  to  a  higher  plane.    No  honest  work  is 
so  dS  when  done  for  Him.  and  you  ^--;; 
force  or  faculty  of  hand  or  heart  which  will  not 
find  most  powerful  stimulus  and  freest  play  m 

'tLfalUhatyou  do  is  truly^done  for  God 
you  escape  that  bondage  in  which  so  many  men 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


25 


e  finest  forces  in 
will  become  in- 
ourwork  with  a 

smanship,  litera- 
d  in  the  thought 
hink  you  Angelo 
ecause  he  carved 
thing  marble,  and 
y  of  his  frescos? 

the  story  of  the 
[y  because  he  felt 
ghts  of  God  writ- 
arth?    Think  you 
because  while  he 
is  cobbler's-bench 
^  in  his  heart,  and 
y  enterprise  took 
ig  friends,  the  true 
so   inspiring,  so 
:s,  that  by  it  all  life 
No  honest  work  is 

and  you  have  no 
eart  which  will  not 

and  freest  play  in 

ruly  done  for  God, 
ivhich  so  many  men 


labor,  —  the  bondage  to  the  material  and  tempo- 
ral. How  much  work  is  mere  grind  in  a  dull  round 
of  days  without  horizon;  how  much  work 
indeed,  seems  linked  with  peril  to  our  best 
selves !  We  are  depressed  or  corrupted  by  our 
very  labor. 

"  Nature  is  subdu'd 
To  what  it  works  in,  like  the  dyer's  hand." 

There  is  danger  even  in  achievement ;  but  you 
may  win  wealth  safely  when  you  win  it  for  God, 
for  then,  through  you,  it  becomes  ministrant  to 
humanity.  You  may  grasp  power  without  harm 
when  you  seek  it  and  wield  it  for  Him ;  you  may 
covet  the  magic  charm  of  poetry  and  art  with- 
out rebuke  when  you  make  it  a  service  of  melody 
and  beauty  to  Him. 

All  that  is  good  is  God's ;  and  if  you  are  His, 
all  that  is  good  is  yours.  No  toil  done  in  love 
is  drudgery,  and  the  love  of  God  casts  a  halo 
around  the  humblest  task. 

This  highest,  broa^t  aim,^_jdie  service  of 
God,  gives  scope  for  all  genuine  self-culture,  — 
ofbody  as  well  as  of  mind,  of  mind  as  well  as  of 
spirit.  "  Godliness  is  profitable  for  all  things," 
said  Saint  Paul,  "  having  promise  of  the  life  which 
now  is,  and  of  that  which  is  to  comej'  and  "  the 
bodily  exercise  "  which  in  the  preceding  line  he 
says  "profiteth  little,"  has  no  reference  to  a 


1 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


/-  J  ««r  tn  well  instructed  man. 

God  nor  *°7^"*"^m„et  culture. get  power ; 

S;Htuwo':S;ofan.ha.youcan«ina„d 

°^^'^-  «  God  plants  u»  where  we  grow." 

„a  He  UUes  deUgh.  in  ^^-„»— U  I. 

attainaWe  by  «'•  J  'b„,   „„  „ay  be  good 

world  mcasorM greatness,         y  is  to  be 

"'*  *',T?o°"er    is  t'  t-t    reltness  that 
great  at  1««- f°'*"' '^  "„,y  „„,  be  rich  in 

"  "°*   '^a„rbuTyou  may  be  rich  in  knowl- 
houses  and  lands  but  y  y^^^  ^^  ^  ^ 

■^^^  '^  I  A?e'r  can  plnnder.    You  may  not 
bum,  and  no  thiel  can  v  ^^ 

be  skilful  in  i--''""'"*  ifih"  artof  IWng 
which  is    better,  f '"'  "  ^^'.^f  „ial.    You 

;-r;:prby%hes^..of^^£^-^ 

„ay  have  the  finer  l"""  "V  J™ ^  b„rt,  of 

rrr;':;4T.Syo?^;^bave,theioy 


■^^% 


Afe. 

the  self-macera- 

easing  neither  to 

lan. 

ulture,  get  power; 

are  got  that  you 

B  God.    Make  the 

of  yourselves  for 

at  you  can  win  and 

we  grow," 

ur  attainment 
is  open  to  all,  and  is 
not  be  great  as  the 
ut  you  may  be  good 
and  that  is  to  be 
1  true  greatness  that 
lay  not  be  rich   in 
lay  be  rich  in  knowl- 
\  riches  no  fire  can 
ider.    You  may  not 
art,  but  you  may  be, 
\    the  art  of  living 
i  midst  of  trial.    You 
move  multitudes  to 
I  of  geniusibut  you 
of  giving  comfort  to 

I  healing  the  hurts  of 

II  may  have,  the  joy 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


27 


of  living  purely  and  helpfully,  and  of  seeing  in 
every  vicissitude  of  life  the  guiding  hand  of 
your  Father,  in  every  flower  some  gleam  of  His 
beauty,  in  every  star  a  sign  of  His  watchfulness, 
and  in  every  rainbow  that  springs  its  arch  over 
the  path  of  the  retreating  storm  a  radiant 
renewal  of  His  faithful  and  gracious  promise. 

Through  misfortune  you  may  fail  in  business, 
but,  loving  God,  you  cannot  fail  of  life's  true 
crown.  You  may  be  assailed  by  the  envy  or 
hate  of  men  who  misunderstand  you ;  you  can- 
not be  hindered  from  possessing  an  impreg- 
nable peace.  If  you  aim  supremely  at  worldly 
success,  and  fail,  your  failure  leaves  you  poor 
indeed ;  but  if  you  aim  only  to  do  the  will  of 
God,  no  earthly  loss  can  impoverish  you,  and 
death  will  but  usher  you  into  habitations  which 
God's  hand  has  builded  and  no  shock  of  disas- 
ter can  destroy. 

Here,  then,  is  an  aim  in  life  which  draws  the 
soul  upward  and  not  downward,  which  is  so  broad 
as  to  give  scope  to  every  power  of  your  nature, 
and  which  is  attainable  by  all  who  seek.  What 
do  you  think  of  it  ?  You  are  beginning,  or  have 
just  begun,  the  serious  business  of  life ;  your 
heads  are  full  of  plans,  and  your  hearts  are  full 
of  wishes  and  hopes  and  fears.  Some  of  you 
look  forward  with  buoyant  spirits  to  the  prize 


%<mmmm mhhiiWiWIMIiHIII.  ^""' 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


«hich  you  covet.     Some  of  you,  perhaps,  «e 

Tt    Som"  fm'yb^tave  little  thought  or 
^"e'for  tomorrow,  so  that  to-day  be  pleasant 
life   s  God's  precious  gift  to  you;  vhat  -U 
you  do  »ith  ii!     No»  your  ideals  are  form- 
Z-    now  you  are  shaping  that  conception  of 
SI'Xh'will   rule    all  your    future    ac  .on. 
Nobility  of  thought  and  aspirafon  .s  natural 
fo   the    young  heart.    Most  young  men  have 
1    native   capacity  for  chivalry  and  upnght- 
L^    a  »rdid  and  selftsh  youth,  a  youth  without 
"tre'roufimpulsesand  pure  aspirations,  shoc^ 
^r«  something  abnormal  and  monstrous.    Says 
ThrJo"   Hunger:     "There  is  no  misor.,^e 
inmoarable  to  a  youth  without  a  sense  of  nobd- 
r  Brt.  r  be  born  blind  than  not  to  see  the 
lirv  of  life  "     The  blast  voluptuary,  the  wora- 
ttTuJeo  avarice,  the  misanthrope  whose  P- 
"mism  is  the  reflection  of  Ws  o-  -'^^^  and 
distrustful  spirit,  may  declaim  agamsthfe  ^  not 

worth  living.,    b""-"";  ">"'"'"' tttl°d1.- 
fresh  Eift,  have  better  thoughts, -thoughts  dis 
ifdfom  an  honored  ^Aer's  counsels.  »   - 
.  *i,«r'=  oravers     To  you  life,  though  it  is 

SCeisCrandfJl  of  promise;  wb^t 

will  you  do  with  it?    At  the  begmmng  of  the 


rou,  perhaps,  are 
the  struggle  for 
and  the    future 
:  little  thought  or 
3-day  be  pleasant. 
)  you;   what  will 
ideals  are  form- 
hat  conception  of 
ur    future    action, 
piration  is  natural 
young  men  have 
airy   and   upright- 
th,  a  youth  without 
aspirations,  shocks 
i  monstrous.     Says 
;   is  no  misfortune 
)Ut  a  sense  of  nobil- 
:han  not  to  see  the 
»luptuary,  the  worn- 
anthrope  whose  pes- 
is  own  unloving  and 
m  against  life  as  not 
whom  life  is  God's 
jhts,  — thoughts  dis- 
ler's  counsels,  a  lov- 
you  life,  though  it  is 
ill  of  promise;  what 
the  beginning  of  the 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


journey,  whither  are  you  going ;  what  is  your 
aim  ?  Forget  my  voice  and  listen  to  the  voice 
of  God  speaking  inarticulately  yet  intelligibly 
in  your  heart  and  to  your  conscience.  That 
voice  is  commanding  you  to  a  purpose  and  aim, 
and  inviting  you  to  a  service  which  welcomed 
and  accepted  will  make  your  life  pure,  beautiful, 
and  divine. 

A  sacred  burden  is  this  life  ye  bear : 
Look  on  It,  lift  it,  bear  it  solemnly, 
Stand  up  and  walk  beneath  it  steadfastly. 
Fail  not  for  sonow,  falter  not  for  sin; 
But  onward,  upward,  till  the  goal  ye  win." 


29 


CHARACTER. 

.  CHARACTER  is  properly  educated  wiU-NovAt". 
Character  maWe,ltsownde.tiny.-MKS.  CAMPBELL  PRiun^. 

Character  «  the  dUmond  that  .cratche.  every  other  .tone. 

"Whal  the  .upeHor  man  seeWs  »  in  himself ;  what  the  .mall 
raZ  seek.  U  in  other..  -  CoNFUC.u.. 

Character  is  the  mora,  order  «,en  through  the  medium  of 
an  individual  nature -EMERSON. 

"ThTIvTbow  before  the  good  and  the  wicked  at  the  gate. 

of  the  righteous.  -  Pro..r6s  ./Solomon. 

Look,  as  I  blow  this  feather  from  my  face, 

And  a.  the  air  blow,  it  to  me  aga*"' 
SbeyingwithmywindwhenldoWow, 

And  yielding  to  another  when  it  blow.. 
Commanded  alway.  by  the  greater  gu.t ; 
Such  I.  the  Ughtne..  of  you  common^«- ^^^ 

/CHARACTER  is  a  very  different  thing  from 
(-"reputation,  though  often  the  two  are  con- 
founded    Reputation  is  what  a  man  .s  though 
to  be  ;  character  is  what  a  man  is.    The  one  is 
opinion;  the  other  is  fact     Circumstances  and 


Character. 


3i 


R. 

ll._NOVAUS. 

Mrs.  Campbell  Praed. 
Itches  every  other  stone. 

himself;  what  the  small 
I. 
through  the  medium  of 

ives  some  trace  behind; 
to  make  us  what  we  are. 

I  the  wicked  at  the  gates 

xon. 

ler  from  my  face, 

» me  again, 

hen  I  do  blow, 

when  it  blows, 

he  greater  gust; 

^ou  common  men. 

SHAKE8PEARB. 

different  thing  from 
ften  the  two  are  con- 
hat  a  man  is  thought 
I  man  is.    The  one  is 
Circumstances  and 


associations,  or  even  artful  management,  may 
give  one  for  a  time  a  fictitious  reputation;  but 
his  character  is  himself,  and  that  at  last  makes 
his  real  reputation.  A  man  may  be  honestly 
indifferent  to  reputation;  but  he  cannot  be 
honestly  indifferent  to  character.  The  former 
may  affect  his  temporal  condition;  but  the  lat- 
ter determines  his  destiny. 

The  word  "character"  is  a  Greek  word,  as 
many  of  our  best  words  are,  and  is  transferred, 
not  translated,  into  our  English  speech.     The 
verb  Yapa(T<r«.  by  softening  the  hard  guttural 
and  dropping    the   final   vowel,   becomes  our 
English  "  harass."  and  means:  (i)  to  make  sharp 
or  pointed,  to  whet,  and.  metaphorically  used,  to 
exasperate,  to  irritate;  (2)  to  furrow  or  scratch; 
(3)  to  engrave,  or  to  stamp,  as  in  minting  a  com. 
yapaKTVP,  which  is  only  the  Greek  form  of  otir 
English  ••  character,"  means  that  which  ts  cut  tn 
or  marked,  as  the  impress  or  stamp  on  corns, 
sealsi,  etc.    Thus,  it  comes  to  mean  that  which 
reveals  or  expresses  the  quality  of  a  thing  or  a 
person.    A  small,  round,  flat  piece  of  gold  >s 
put  into   the  stamping  machine  in  the   mmt, 
and  that  part  of  the  machine  called  the  "  die  " 
strikes  it,  leaving  an  impress,  — as,  for  example, 
the  figure  of  an  eagle  with  an  encircHng  legend, 
—  and  that  impress  is   the    character  of   the 


32  The  Aim  of  Life. 

piece ;  it  tells  what  the  piece  is  and  declares  its 

worth. 

Our  English  word  "  type  "  has  a  similar  origin. 
It  came  from  the  Greek  verb  TUTrTw,  which 
means  to  strike,  whence  the  noun  TV-jro?,  type, 
which  means  first,  a  blow,  and  then,  an  impression 
or  mark  which  is  the  result  of  a  blow. 

This  simple  lesson  in  etymology  will  help  you 
to  a  clear  idea  of  what  character  means.  Your 
character  is  the  mark  or  impress  on  you  that 
declares  your  real  quality  and  worth.  That  is, 
your  character  is  what  you  are  in  moral  quality ; 
for,  because  man  is  pre-eminently  a  moral  being, 
this  word,  "  character,"  has  taken  to  itself  an 
almost  exclusively  moral  significance. 

You  see,  then,  the  inseparableness  of  charac- 
ter from  self.     If  you  would  have  a  good  char- 
acter you  must  be  good.     If  you  are  bad,  no 
matter  what  others  think  of  you,  your  character 
is  bad ;  you  cannot  escape  from  your  character. 
A  man  may  run  away  from  a  bad  reputation,  for 
that  is  something  outside  of  himself;   he  can 
never  run  away  from  a  bad  character,  for  that  is 
himself.    A  man's  reputation  is  like  his  shadow, 
which,  according  as  the  sun   is  high   or  low, 
may  be  longer  or  shorter  than  himself,  or  may 
even  disappear  altogether,  as  when  the  sun  is  at 
the  zenith;  but  his  character  is  like  the  color 


life. 

s  and  declares  its 

las  a  similar  origin. 
;rb   rinrrto,   which 

noun  Tw-jroif,  type, 
then,  an  impression 

a  blow. 

)logy  will  help  you 
cter  means.     Your 
press  on  you  that 
J  worth.     That  is, 
e  in  moral  quality ; 
ntly  a  moral  being, 
taken  to  itself  an 
[nificance. 
ibleness  of  charac- 
have  a  good  char- 
[f  you  are  bad,  no 
^ou,  your  character 
om  your  character. 

bad  reputation,  for 
»f  himself;  he  can 
haracter,  for  that  is 
I  is  like  his  shadow, 
n  is  high  or  low, 
lan  himself,  or  may 
i  when  the  sun  is  at 
er  is  like  the  color 


Character. 


U 


of  his  eyes,  look  which  way  be  will,  that  is  the 
same.  "No  change  of  circumstances,"  says 
Emerson,  "can  repair  a  defect  of  character." 
If  your  character  is  evil  it  can  be  repaired  only 
by  your  moral  renewal. 

Having  got  now  a  clear  idea  of  what  character 
is,  let  us  think  about  the  ways  and  means  by 
which  it  comes  to  be  good  or  evil. 

I.  The  first  thing  to  fix  in  our  minds  is  the 
truth  that  character  is  formed.  It  is  not  in- 
herited any  more  than  gold  when  it  comes  from 
the  mine  bears  the  impress  of  the  minter's  "  die." 
You  are  born  with  a  nature  which  has  certain 
susceptibilities,  and'  tendencies,  or  appetencies, 
but  no  character.  Character  is  the  result  of 
forces,  chief  among  which  are  your  own  choices 
and  volitions;  you  make  your  own  character. 
You  did  not  choose  the  lot  in  which  you  were 
born ;  that  was  chosen  for  you.  You  did  not 
create  your  temperament ;  that  you  inherited  from 
your  parents.  But  what  you  become  is  mainly 
the  product  of  your  own  vvill.  Wisely  and  most 
beneficently  has  it  been  ordained  for  man  that 

"  Himself  from  God  he  [canl  not  free." 

Deeper  and  more  vital  than  the  truth  that 
Nature  and  human  life  are  man's  constant  en- 
vironment is  the  truth  that  Divinity  is  man's 

3 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


54 

*     n..t   it  has  been  ot  lained  also 

destiny. 

..  Men  at  .om.  time  are  mwter.  of  .heir  fate. , 
ThJ  fault,  dear  Brutu..  i.  not  In  our  .tar., 
ii;  in  o«r.elve..  that  we  are  underling.. 

Here  is  a  fundamental  principle  ••   '.t  is  your 
p"r  gatlve  to  shape  morally  your  own  futur 

man  s  true  dignity  as  viic  utiaMv 

r~l.  it  is  this  which  separates  him  so  widely 
f  .t  hmtls  A  Mute,  not  being  moral,  can 
l'°".  I^char«ter  an7th;refore  no  destiny;  i. 
ra:nJ^;:^lndhreeas^n..es^a.^^^^^^ 

rr^r:t;'w'S,!:^  i^^^ 

of  unlimited  n!en|al  -^.  -'"Vt^X  i   on^ 
pansibiUty  upward  is  infinite     The  oo  y  , 

^':^t.i'er=-onist;':re,.„d 

r;  :«*«n:to  be  entirely  subordinate  and 
IuTL  Irs.    I  physical  e,.upn,en,  man  , 


n  orlained  also 
termine  his  own 


I  their  fate*  i 
our  ttart, 
derlingB." 

ciple;   it  is  your 
your  own  future, 
r  is  the  mark  of 
ture  and  child  of 
es  him  so  widely 
:  being  moral,  can 
)re  no  destiny;  it 
I  dies,  and  so  com* 
ife.    But  man  has 
md  the  possibility 
al  growth ;  his  ex- 

The  body  is  only 
;  the  bodily  func- 
i'  of  his  nature,  and 
ly  subordinate  and 
1  and  spiritual  life, 
arth,  his  head  may 

equipment  man  is, 
beasts ;  but  by  his 
:nts  he  is  raised  far 
taster.  Reason  and 
Iter  than  that  of  the 


Character. 


35 


elephant,  a  swiftness  beyond  that  of  the  horse, 
and  a  skill  infinitely  surpassing  that  of  the  ant 
and  the  beaver ;  while  his  spiritual  nature  lifts 
him  out  of  any  real  kinship  to  the  beasts.  A 
baby  seems  to  have  little  more  than  an  animal 
nature,  but  quickly  it  reveals  capacities  that 
belong  only  to  a  spiritual  being  capable  of 
knowing  God  and  of  participating  in  His  power 
and  wisdom  and  holiness. 

In  a  word,  man  is  capable  of  moral  character, 
and  this  character  he  creates  by  the  exercise  of 
his  moral  powers  in  the  various  situations  and 
experiences  of  his  life. 

But  the  process  of  character-formation  goes 
on  through  the  action  and  inter-action  of  many 
forces.  The  totality  of  a  life,  at  any  moment, 
is  the  product  mainly  of  little  things.  Trifling 
choices,  insignificant  exercises  of  will,  unimpor- 
tant acts  often  repeated,  things  seemingly  of 
small  account,  —  these  are  the  thousand  tiny 
sculptors  that  are  carving  away  constantly  at 
the  rude  block  of  life,  giving  it  shape  and  feature. 
Indeed  the  formation  of  character  is  much  like 
the  work  of  an  artist  in  stone.  The  sculptor 
takes  u  rough,  unshapen  mass  of  marble,  and 
with  strong,  rapid  strokes  of  mallet  and  chisel 
quickly  brings  into  view  the  rude  outline  of  his 
design;    but  after  the  outline   appears,  then 


:«»«»««« '-^ 


'.it^v  ,j;'i<tj;;-y|';'.,'^u"»  ';'"> ' 


aa^j'g 


36 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


come  hours,  days,  perhaps  even  years,  of  patient 
minute  labor.  A  novice  might  see  no  change 
in  the  statue  from  one  day  to  the  other;  for 
though  the  chisel  touches  the  stone  a  thousand 
times,  it  touches  as  lightly  as  the  fall  of  a  rain- 
drop, but  each  touch  leaves  a  mark.  A  friend 
of  Michael  Angelo's  called  on  the  great  artist 
while  he  was  finishing  a  statue;  some  days 
afterward  he  called  again,  and  the  sculptor  was 
still  at  the  same  task.  The  friend,  looking  at 
the  statue,  exclaimed :  — 

"  Have  you  been  idle  since  I  saw  you  last?  " 

"  By  no  means,"  replied  Angelo.  "  I  have 
retouched  this  part,  and  polished  that ;  I  have 
softened  tliis  feature,  and  brought  out  this  mus- 
cle ;  I  have  given  more  expression  to  this  lip, 
and  more  energy  to  this  limb." 

"  Well,  well !  "  said  his  friend,  "  all  these  are 
trifles." 

"  It  may  be  so,"  replied  Angelo  ;  "  but  recol- 
lect that  trifles  make  perfection,  and  that  perfec- 
tion is  no  trifle." 

So  it  is  with  the  shaping  of  character ;  each 
day  brings  us  under  the  play  of  innumerable 
little  influences.  Every  one  of  these  influences 
does  its  work  for  good  or  ill ;  and  all  do  their 
work  through  our  consent.  By-and-by  appears 
the  full  and  final  result.    No  character  is  com- 


It? 


Cliaracter. 


37 


n  years,  of  patient 
It  see  no  change 

0  the  other;  for 
stone  a  thousand 
the  fall  of  a  rain- 

1  mark.  A  friend 
n  the  great  artist 
atue;  some  days 
d  the  sculptor  was 

friend,  looking  at 

1 1  saw  you  lasit?  " 
Angelo.    "  I  have 
ished  that;  I  have 
jught  out  this  mus- 
iression  to  this  Up, 

lend,  "  all  these  are 

Lngelo  ;  "  but  recol- 
ion,  and  that  perfec- 

of  character;  each 
>lay  of  innumerable 
e  of  these  influences 
ill;  and  all  do  their 
By-and-by  appears 
No  character  is  com- 


pleted at  once.    The  general  outline  may  be 
manifest  early  in  life,  but  through  succeeding 
years  the  slow  process  of  filling  up  that  outline 
goes  on,  until  at  last  the  character  stands  forth 
in  all  its  developed  beauty  or  hideousness.     It 
is  difficult  to  trace  the  process  in  minute  detail. 
Each  day's  choices  leave  their  mark  on  the 
chooser;  to-day's  deeds  are  to-morrow's  habits, 
and  the  sum  of  one's  habits  is  his  life.    What 
we  say  has  its  share  in  determining  what  we 
shall  be,  for  speech  has  a  sure  recoil  on  the 
speaker.     A  false  word  is  instantly  avenged  by 
its  rebound  on  character ;  an  obscene  jest  flings 
back  a  stain  on  him  who  utters  it     Our  deeds 
also  have  an  inescapable  reflex  influence  ;  what 
we  do  helps  to  make  us  what  we  are.    All  our 
activities  both  manifest  character  and    shape 
character  ;  deeds  are  never  trivial.     You  think, 
perhaps,  that  you  may  do   many  things   now 
which  you  will  not  do  by-and-by,  and  that  these 
will  have  no  permanent  result  in  your  future 
condition.    It  is  a  dangerous  mistake.     Many 
a  young  man  indulges  himself  in  "  sowing  wild 
oats,"  and  forgets  that  every  sowing  has   its 
harvest.     They  that  sow  the  wind  reap  the 
whirlwind.    The  sins  of  youth"  are  the  seeds  of 
many  a  grievous  harvest  reaped  in  ofd  age  with 
remorse  and  unavailing  tears. 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


\\ 


38 

There  Is  no  greater  blunder  than  that  of 
ignoring  or  despising  little  things.  Great  cnses 
of  peril  or  temptation  or  sorrow  test  charac- 
ter and  show  what  fibre  it  has.    But  every  day 

of  precedent  life  has  been  a  P'<=P-f  >°';;  g°°f^ 
or  bad  for  the  crisis.  The  man  who  from  h.s 
^ou'^d  been  honest  in  little  affairs  will  safely 
Lar  the  shock    and    strain   that    come  w.th 

mature  years;  while  ^--)\XZTtjL 
obligation  in  small  matters  falls  m  moral  defeat 
and  ruin  when  the  crucial  hour  of  temptation 

^^SSrgwS;  our  habitual  words  and  c^ed. 
our  associations  also  have  a  part  to  play  in 
the  formation  of  character;  the  companionships 
whicS  you  choose,  or  to  which  you  wil  ingly  sub- 
li   are  putting  their  mark  on  you  continually.  It 
" a;" W  sayini.  that  he  who  keeps  thecompany 
of  princes  catches  their  manners.    There  is  a 
strong  contagion  in  example;   it  works  .ub- 
Sy  and  surely,  like  a  fine  corrosion  etching 
S  into  our  moral  nattire  before  we  know  it. 
l^eliver  me  from  my  friends  "  is  often  a  more 
pertinen  and  needful  prayer  than.  "  Deliver  me 
K  my  enemies."    Against  the  latter  we  are 
oHuarf.  but  to  the  former  all  gates  are  open. 
'Tt  what  shall  be  said  about  the  relation  o 
circumstances  to  the  formation  of  character? 


ife. 

:r  than  that  of 
rs.    Great  crises 
ow  test  charac- 
But  every  day 
reparation,  good 
an  who  from  his 
affairs  will  safely 
that    come  with 
was  careless  of 
Is  in  moral  defeat 
ur  of  temptation 

words  and  deeds, 
part  to  play  in 
iC  companionships 
you  willingly  sub- 
^rou  continually.  It 
ceeps  the  company 
mcrs.    There  is  a 
le;   it  works  ^ub- 
corrosion  etching 
before  we  know  it. 
Is  "  is  often  a  more 
than, "  Deliver  me 
t  the  latter  we  are 
ill  gates  are  optn. 
>out  the  relation  of 
rtion  of  character? 


Character, 


39 


There  are  many  people  in  the  world  who  have 
much  fault  to  find  with  circumstances.    They 
excuse  failures  and  even  vices  by  reference  to 
their  unfortunate  or  evil  circumstances.     "  I  am 
a  victim  of  circumstances,"  is  their  confession 
and  plea;  but  often  the  confession  is  insincere, 
and  the  plea  is  cowardly.    It  is  a  man's  business 
to  be  the  victor  and  not  the  victim  of  circum- 
Mtances,  as  far  as  his  personal  character  is  con- 
cerned.   There  are  no  circumstances  in  which 
you  cannot  be  true  and  honest.    If  your  lot 
is  one  of  poverty,  you  may  make  your  very 
poverty  a  spur  to  such  diligence  and  thrift  as 
by-and-by  will  win  the  golden  key  to  honest 
wealth.    If  you  are  pressed  by  adversity,  re- 
member that  noble  character  is  no  hot-house 
flovrer  which  must  be  sheltered  and  kept  in  per- 
petual warmth,  but  a  hardy  plant  which  defies  the 
frost  and  the  tempest.    The  very  storms  of  adver- 
sity  will  give  you  firmness  of  fibre  and  deep- 
rooted  strength.    You  may  have  many  trials,  but 
if  you  so  choose,  these  trials  will  be  but  hammers 
in  the  forge  of  life  to  smite  you  into  finer  shape 
and  temper.    "  Sweet  are  the  uses  of  adversity," 
said    Shakespeare;    priceless  are  the  uses  of 
difficulty  and  conflict.    Edward  Burke  declared 
that,  "  Difficulty  is  a  severe  instructor  set  over 
us  by  the  supreme  ordinance  of   a  parental 


iSa«iigsW!?ife«*?- 


f 


y 


figgii0iii),i0ijiiiititi0m^^ 


\,„.^lJUL•.WJ  'B-?-«W 


40 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


guardian  .  .  .  who  knows  us  better  than  we 
know  ourselves,  as  He  loves  us  better  too.  He 
that  wrestles  with  us  strengthens  our  nerves, 
and  sharpens  our  skill;  our  antagonist  is  thus 
our  helper."  It  is  said  oftentimes,  of  this  or  that 
distinguished  man :  "  Circumstances  made  him." 
Believe  it  not ;  circumstances  make  no  man 
truly  great.  The  clouds  in  the  western  sky 
glow  with  roseate  and  golden  hues,  but  their 
splendor  is  derived  from  the  setting  sun;  the 
radiance  of  a  great  personality  overflows  all  his 
surroundings  and  gives  them  a  meaning  not 
their  own. 

Indeed,  what  often  are  called  favorable  cir- 
cumstances are  really  the  most  unfavorable  to 
the  development  of  superior  character.  But, 
whatever  may  be  the  circumstances,  a  human 
soul  is  greater  than  all  its  surroundings,  and 
may  subject  them  to  its  own  uses,  turning 
obstacles  into  allies^  and  winning  from  adver- 
sity a  stubborn  strength  that  throws  the  world 
in  the  wrestle  of  life.  Whipple  thus  tells  a  story 
of  Napoleon's  general,  Massena,  which  illus- 
trates the  masterful  purpose  that  plucks  victory 
out  of  the  jaws  of  defeat  "  After  the  defeat  at 
Essling,  the  success  of  Napoleon's  attempt  to 
withdraw  his  beaten  army  depended  on  the 
character  of  Massena,  to  whom  the  Emperor 


Mi 


,w;.r,  M  .Bswai: 


:r  than  we 
•r  too.  He 
)ur  nerves, 
nist  is  thus 
this  or  that 
made  him." 
:e  no  man 
western  sky 
I,  but  their 
g  sun;  the 
lows  all  his 
leaning  not 

voraible  cir- 
iavorable  to 
icter.  But, 
s,  a  human 
ndings,  and 
les,  turning 
rom  adver- 
s  the  world 
tells  a  story 
vhich  Hlus- 
icks  victory 
he  defeat  at 
attempt  to 
led  on  the 
e  Emperor 


Character. 


41 


despatched  a  messenger  telling  him  to  keep  his 
position  for  two  hours  longer  at  Aspern.  This 
order,  couched  in  the  form  of  a  request,  almost 
required  an  impossibility;  but  Napoleon  knew 
the  indomitable  tenacity  of  the  man  to  whom  he 
gave  it.  The  messenger  found  Massena  seated 
on  a  heap  of  rubbish,  his  eyes  bloodshot,  his 
frame  weakened  by  his  unparalleled  exertions 
during  a  contest  of  forty  hours,  and  his  whole 
appearance  indicating  a  physical  state  better 
befitting  the  hospital  than  the  field.  But  that 
steadfast  soul  seemed  altogether  unaffected  by 
bodily  prostration ;  half  dead  as  he  was  with 
fatigue,  he  rose  painfully  and  said :  '  Tell  the 
Emperor  that  I  will  hold  out  for  two  hours, 
six,  twenty-four,  —  as  long  as  it  is  necessary 
for  the  safety  of  the  army.'  And  ...  he  kept 
his  word." 

If  you  are  to  form  such  a  character  as  in  your 
best  moments  you  both  admire  and  covet,  you 
will  suffer  yourself  to  be  cowed  by  no  circum- 
stances, however  menacing  they  may  be ;  you 
will  resist  the  slightest  pressure  either  of  fear  or 
of  selfishness ;  you  will  remember  always  that 
no  evil  can  master  you  to  which  you  do  not 
submit.  Your  own  choice  determines,  not 
whether  you  will  be  tempted  or  not,  but 
whether  or  not  you  will  be  overcome  by  temp- 


vkfimmitiiUikmifmtiiliiimA-'' 


43  The  Aim  of  Life. 

tation ;  for  the  issue  of  the  struggle  turns  not 
upon  your  individual  strength  alone,  but  upon 
your  will  reinforced  by  divine  power.  God  is 
the  ally  of  every  soul  that  seeks  wholly  to  be 
true.  Experience  sooner  or  later  corresponds 
to  genuine  and  noble  aspiration.  Opportunities 
for  heroism  come  to  him  who  is  fitting  himself 
for  heroic  action  by  a  daily  endeavor  to  be  the 
best  possible  in  thought  and  deed  now;  in  the 
common,  unnoted  experiences  of  each  succes- 
sive day  we  shape  the  character  which  can 
endure  the  great  crises  of  experience  that  come 
to  every  soul  here  or  hereafter. 

The  formation  of  character  is  a  vital  process. 
It  is  not  the  result  of  external  forces,  but  of 
our  choice  and  volition  in  the  sphere  of  our 
life's  varying  circumstances  and  its  complex 
environment  of  diverse  influences ;  it  is  in  some 
true  sense  a  growth  which  has  a  definite  type. 
Character  grows  and  strengthens  continually; 
each  day  discovers  some  change  in  us,  and  the 
change  is  in  a  specific  direction.  There  is  a 
tendency  in  us  toward  fixity  of  moral  nature. 
This  development  of  character  into  distinct  and 
permanent  form  is  rapid.  Youth  is  the  forma- 
tive period  of  life;  then  the  nature  is  plastic: 
it  receives  impressions  easily,  and  the  impres- 
ions  are  lasting.    Did  you  ever  see  workmen 


iSEWsrar— 


•  Z',:,'0-.» 


turns  not 
but  upon 
.  God  is 
ally  to  be 
>rresponds 
portunities 
ig  himself 
to  be  the 
w;  in  the 
ch  succes- 
ivhich  can 
that  come 

\\  process. 
:es,  but  of 
;re  of  our 
i  complex 
is  in  some 
Suite  type, 
ontinually ; 
us,  and  the 
There  is  a 
ral  nature, 
listinct  and 
the  forma- 
ts plastic: 
he  impres- 
;  workmen 


Character. 


<3 


making  a  moulding  of  plaster  about  a  room? 
If  so,  you  have  observed  that  when  the  plaster 
is  placed  roughly  in  the  angle  where  wall  and 
ceiling  meet,  the  workmen  lose  no  time  in 
applying  the  instrument  which  gives  it  the 
desired  form.  Why  do  they  hasten  ?  Because 
the  plaster  quickly  stiflfens,  and  must  be  pressed 
rapidly  into  shape  or  it  will  harden  into  an 
unsightly  and  unmanageable  mass. 

"  Thou  art  now  clay,"  said  Perseus,  "  moist 
and  pliant;  even  now  must  thou  be  hastily 
moulded  and  fashioned  uninterruptedly  by  the 
rapid  wheel." 

My  young  friends,  you  have  no  time  to 
lose  in  beginning  your  supreme  task  of  shaping 
your  characters  into  forms  of  symmetry  and 
beauty.  You  cannot  live  recklessly  to-day  and 
righteously  to-morrow;  you  cannot  be  foolish 
and  vicious  in  your  "  teens  "  or  "  twenties,"^  and 
rationally  hope  to  be  wise  and  virtuous  in  your 
"  forties."  The  tendency  or  disposition  to  think 
and  act  in  a  certain  way  now  quickly  becomes 
a  habit,  and  habit  is  second  nature;  this  is 
true  whether  the  present  disposition  be  good  or 
bad.  Truthfulness  becomes  a  habit;  purity 
becomes  a  habit;  honesty  becomes  a  habit. 
So,  also,  the  opposite  qualities,  as  falsity,  dis- 
honesty, and    unchastity  become  habits.    The 


SS8fi?»SgSSfi®&; 


I 


44 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


i  Hi 


I  hi 
-li 

hi 


young  man  who  leads  an  unclean  life  is  riveting 
upon  himself  the  loathsome  chains  of  a  corrupt 
habit  which  only  divine  power  can  break. 

There  is  no  escape  from  this  drift  of  nature, 
this  tendency  of  character  to  stiffen  into  a 
definite  and  permanent  type. 

The  critics  have  discredited  the  old  story  of 
George  Washington,  who,  when  a  boy,  said  to 
his  father:    "I  cannot  tell  a  lie."     I  believe 
the  story,  entirely  apart  from  external  evidence, 
because  it  is  prophetic  of  the  man.    The  sin- 
cere, veracious,  and  inflexibly  upright  patriot 
and  statesman  fulfils  the  prophecy  of  the  trans- 
parent, frank,  and  truth-loving  boy.    Some  men 
cannot  tell  a  lie ;   the   habit  of  truth-telling  is 
fixed,   it  has  become    incorporate  with    their 
nature.    Their  characters    bear    the    indelible 
stamp  of  veracity.    You  and  I  know  men  Whose 
slightest  word  is  unimpeachable  ;  nothing  could 
shake    our  confidence    in    them.      There  are 
other  men  who  cannot  speak  the  truth ;  their 
habitual  insincerity  has  made  a  twi.st  in  their 
characters,    and     this   twist   appears   in    their 
speech.    A  sculptor  found  a  large  and  beauti- 
ful block  of  marble  in  a  quarry.    He  chose  it 
for  a  statue,  the  image  of  which  dawned  on  his 
creative  imagination;    but  a  few  blows  of  his 
chisel  revealed  a  vein  of  color  traversing  the 


IIL 


,'^4iittatsi"^Sl^«MiSfes>.»ii;  •  ^ 


mm 


is  riveting 
a  corrupt 
:ak. 

of  nature, 
en   into   a 

Id  story  of 
}y,  said  to 

I  believe 
1  evidence, 
,  The  sin- 
{ht  patriot 

the  trans- 
Some  men 
h-telling  is 
with    their 
;    indelible 
men  Whose 
:hing  could 
There  are 
•uth ;  their 
ist  in  their 
s   in    their 
and  beauti- 
le  chose  it 
rned  on  his 
lows  of  his 
versing  the 


Character. 


45 


snowy  whiteness  of  the  stone.  He  cut  deeper, 
but  the  vein  was  still  there,  it  ran  through  the 
entire  block;  nothing  could  hide  it,  no  skill 
could  take  it  out.  The  stone  was  rejected. 
Thus  it  is  with  many  a  character ;  some  vein 
of  falsity  or  impurity  runs  clear  through  it,  and 
the  defect  is  fatal. 

The  illustration,  however,  is  inadequate ; 
there  is  a  time  when  the  damaging  vein  is  not 
in  the  block  of  life.  We  put  it  there,  or  suffer 
it  to  come,  by  our  own  choice ;  or  if  it  seem  to 
be  there  already,  as  the  result  of  a  baleful  inher- 
itance, we  can  eradicate  it  by  persistently  culti- 
vating that  integrity  which  grows  complete  in 
the  disciplined  and  perfected  character. 

2.  Consider,  now,  some  of  the  principal  ele- 
ments of  good  character.  There  is  space  here 
for  only  the  briefest  mention  of  these,  and  the 
best  statement  of  them  would  be  less  impressive 
and  helpful  to  you  than  the  examples  which 
appear  in  men  and  women  whom  you  know,  or 
in  those  whose  personalities  and  experiences 
are  preserved  in  biography  and  history.  Better 
than  all  others  is  the  great  personality  of  the 
Son  of  Man,  who  "  came  from  God  and  went 
to  God,"  and  in  his  brief  earthly  sojourn  ex- 
hibited the  unforgetable  and  matchless  type  of 
what  a  human  soul  should  be.    There  has  been 


46 


The  Aim  of  Life, 


but  one  perfect  man;  he  was  a  revelation  of 
true  manhood  because  he  was  also  so  true  and 
great  a  revelation  of  God.  Take  him  as  mode!. 
Look  at  his  character,  —  a  character  formed 
just  as  yours  is  formed,  amid  earthly  conditions 
and  influences  that  are  common,  or  may  be 
common  to  humanity.  He  grew  up  from  sweet, 
unconscious  infancy  to  serene,  victorious  man- 
hood, amid  temptation  and  poverty  and  mani- 
fold trial.  He  was  "a  man  of  sorrows  and 
acquainted  with  grief;  "  '*  he  learned  obedience 
as  a  son,"  and  was  "  perfected  through  suffer- 
ing." The  qualities  which  he  exhibited,  —  the 
grace  of  courtesy  and  gentleness,  the  strength  of 
courage  and  uprightness,  the  faith  and  patience 
and  unselfishness,  the  wisdom  and  self-sacrifice 
and  devotion  to  truth,  the  love  of  man  and  God 
which  he  showed,  —  reveal  to  us  :  'le  essential 
elements  of  perfect  human  character.  If  we 
cannot  equal  him,  we  can  follow  after  him,  and 
following  after  him  we  shall  reach  a  higher 
excellence  than  that  to.  which  any  other  master 
can  lead  us. 

Many  examples  of  noble  and  lofty  human 
character  came  to  my  mind  as  I  thought  on 
this  theme ;  but  they  all  disappeared  in  the  calm 
splendor  of  his  presence,  as  stars  fade  when  the 
rising  sun  soars  above  the  horizon.    The.  fanat- 


Character. 


47 


elation  of 
>  true  and 
as  model. 
;r  formed 
conditions 
r  may  be 
•om  sweet, 
ious  man- 
md  mani- 
rrows  and 
obedience 
gh  suflfer- 
ted,  — the 
itrength  of 
\  patience 
If-sacrifice 
n  and  God 
e  essential 
\x.  If  we 
'  him, and 
a  higher 
lier  master 

Fty  human 
liought  on 
n  the  calm 
;  when  the 
The  fanat- 


ical caliph,  Omar,  said  of  the  Koran :  "  Burn  the 
libraries ;  their  value  is  in  this  book."  So  one 
is  moved  to  say  of  all  good  and  great  men,  when 
Jesus  appears  upon  his  view :  "  Let  them  be 
forgotten ;  their  excellence,  and  more,  is  all  in 

him." 

But  it  will  be  profitable  to  consider  for  a  few 
minutes  some  of  those  qualities  which  all  who 
would  attain  the  best  character,  —  all  who,  in 
a  word,  would  be  true  men  and  women,  —  not 
only  may  but  must  acquire. 

First  among  these  qualities  is  sincerity, — 
that  is,  entire  genuineness.  There  is  an  old 
Greek  motto :  Ow  IokAv^  hXtC  Hwu,  not  to  setm, 
but  to  be. 

That  is  the  radical  purpose  of  the  sincere 
man.  You  must  be  real,  —  real  in  speech  and 
real  in  action;  this  is  the  foundation  of  all 
moral  worth.  Let  no  one  deceive  himself  as 
to  what  he  is.  Look  yourselves  in  the  face; 
banish  all  subterfuge  and  deceit. 

«  Be  what  thou  seemest; 
live  thy  creed." 

Insincerity  is  not  a  mere  fault,  it  is  at  once  a 
defect  and  a  vice  for  which  no  brilliancy  of 
genius  or  wealth  of  acquirements  can  atone. 

Inseparable  from  sincerity  is  veracity;  this  is 
more  than  simple  truthfulness.    A  man  speaks 


l'^ 


48 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


truth  when  his  words  correspond  with  facts ;  he 
is  veracious  when  all  his  utterance  is  expressive 
of  the  truth  which  he  himself  is.  A  man  of 
sound  character  is  veracious ;  such  a  man,  said 
Emerson,  is  "  appointed  by  Almighty  God  to 
stand  for  a  fact"  The  speech  of  such  a  man 
has  a  biblical  weight. 

Another  quality  of  utmost  importance  \% purity, 
that  freedom   from  coarseness  and    pruriency 
which  has  been  well  called  "  whiteness  of  soul." 
It  is  an  inherent  repugnancy  to  whatever  is  vile ; 
it  is  a  moral  self-respect  that  shrinks  from  an 
unclean  thought  as  from  an  evil  deed.    The 
fabled  ermine  would  die  rather  than  soil  its 
spotless  fur.    But  purity  is  more  than  a  negative 
quality,  it  is  a  power  of  spiritual  perception. 
"Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,"  said  Jesus, 
••  for  they  shall  see  God."     The  pure  in  heart 
do  see  God  and  live  in  His  continual  presence. 
This  purity  is  not  innocency,  few  of  us  have 
that;   but  it  is  the  disciplined  love  of  moral 
cleanliness  which  develops  in  the  very  struggle 
of  the  soul  against  the  sin  that  has  become  self- 
conscious  under   the  revelation  of  the   ideal, 
divine  holiness.    Innocency,  like  youth,  once 
lost  cannot  be  recovered ;  but  purity,  which  is 
higher,  may  be  attained   by  every  one  who 
strives  and  faints  not. 


facts;  he 
:xpre9sive 
V  man  of 
man,  said 
[y  God  to 
ich  a  man 

;c  \%  purity, 
pruriency 
s  of  soul." 
i^er  is  vile ; 
s  from  an 
eed.    The 
in   soil   its 
a  negative 
)erception. 
laid   Jesus, 
e  in  heart 
.  presence. 
>f  us  have 
!  of  moral 
ry  struggle 
;come  self- 
the   ideal, 
outh,  once 
:y,  which  is 
'  one  who 


iWAis^'-ftf-A'-  'Si8s^.'4  S  «' 


Character. 


49 


Another  element  of  the  best  character  is 
generosity,  —  that  loving  good-will  toward  all 
creatures  which  turns  the  life  into  a  bright, 
gushing  fountain  of  goodness  and  blessing.  This 
is  the  crowning  grace  of  noble  character;  this 
makes  man  most  like  God,  for  "  he  that  loves  is 
born  of  God."  You  may  be  sincere  and  true 
and  pure,  but,  were  such  a  thing  possible,  if  with 
all  this  excellence  you  have  not  a  heart  of  love 
and  pity  and  helpfulness,  you  are  "  nothiug." 

Last,  I  mention,  what  has  been  already  implied, 
steadfastness  in  loyalty  and  devotion  to  the 
right.  It  is  the  capacity  to  sacrifice  every 
worldly  interest  in  the  maintenance  of  principle. 
Let  me  illustrate  this  by  an  incident  of  Scot- 
land's  heroic  days.  In  the  time  of  the  Cove- 
nanters, John  Welsh,  minister  of  Ayr,  was 
banished  for  his  fidelity  to  his  faith.  His  wife, 
a  daughter  of  John  Knox,  was  told  by  King 
James  that  her  husband  could  return  to  Scot- 
land if  he  would  abandon  his  convictions,  inti- 
mating that  she,  by  a  like  abandonment,  could 
induce  him  to  do  the  same.  Raising  her  apron, 
the  noble  woman  replied,  "  Please  your  majesty, 
I  'd  rather  kep  his  head  there!  "  It  was  such 
character  as  hers  that  made  possible  the  glori- 
ous history  of  the  Covenanters;  it  is  such 
character  that  makes   life  everywhere   heroic. 

4 


H 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


The  need  of  this  was  not  greater  in  Scotland 
and  the  seventeenth  century  than  it  is  in 
America  and  the  nineteenth  century.  In  society, 
in  politics,  and  in  religion  the  call  is  loud  for 
men  and  women  of  stamina,  — 

«  Men  who  have  honor,  men  who  will  not  lie. 
Men  who  can  sUnd  before  the  demagogue 
And  da.T»n  hU  treacherous  flatteries  without  winking ; " 

women  who  can  revitalize  our  social  life  with 
a  steadfastness  of  devotion  to  high  principles 
which  the  luxury  of  wealth  and  the  fascinations 
of  ingenious  and  boundlessly  diversified  pleasure 
cannot  undermine. 

3.  Finally,  consider  a  few  moments  the  worth 
of  character.    This  scarcely  needs  demonstra- 
tion here;    life  demonstrates    it.    The    world 
recognizes  the  worth  of  character;    all    men 
pay  tribute  to  it,  the  bad  as  well  as  the  good. 
A  knave  ortce  said  to  a  man  of  distinguished 
honesty:  "I  would  give  twenty  thousand  pounds 
for  your  good  name."    When  asked  why,  he 
replied,  "  Because  I  could  make  forty  thousand 
by  it^"  —  a   knave's  answer  truly,  but  at  the 
same  time  a  significant  tribute  to  moral  worth. 
Commerce  is  built  on  the  faith  which  good  men 
inspire.     "  Men  of  character  are  the  conscience 
of  the  society  to  which  they  belong;  "  thev,  and 
not  the  police,  guarantee  the  execution  of  law,  — 


■:<^^»M:m'^ 


"^ 


ijBaai 


jggg 


fimnYlrrii 


'^^^""^'-'■'^ 


iaSM 


lilmiiillil 


MaAMa 


iMnnTijiiNirjrn 


Scotland 
it  is  in 
\  society, 
loud  for 


aking;" 

life  with 

irinciples 

icinations 

pleasure 

;he  worth 
jmonstra- 
te    world 

all  men 
:he  good, 
inguished 
d  pounds 

why,  he 
thousand 
it  at  the 
ral  worth, 
good  men 
onscience 
thev,  and 
of  law,  — 


^^mfi  ^fSsKSsMsfr""' 


Character. 


51 


their  influence  is  the  bulwark  of  good  government. 
It  was  said  of  the  first  Emperor  Alexander  of 
Russia,  that  his  personal  character  was  equiva- 
lent to  a  constitution.  Of  Montaigne,  it  was 
said  that  his  personal  character  was  a  better 
protection  for  him  than  a  regiment  of  horse 
would  have  been,  he  being  the  only  man  among 
the  French  gentry  who,  during  the  wars  of  the 
Fronde,  kept  his  castle  gates  unbarred.  The 
man  of  character  is  the  true  aristocrat.  Mr. 
Smiles  tells  us  that  Robert  Burns  was  once 
taken  to  task  by  a  young  Edinburgh  blood, 
with  whom  he  was  walking,  for  recognizing  an 
honest  farmer  in  the  open  street.  "  Why,  you 
fantastic  gomeril !  "  exclaimed  Burns ;  "  it  was 
not  the  great-coat,  the  scone-bonnet,  and  the 
Saunders-boot  hose  that  I  spoke  to,  but  the 
man  that  was  in  them;  and  the  man,  sir,  for 
true  worth,  would  weigh  down  you  and  nie,  and 
ten  more  such,  any  day !  "  —  an  answer  worthy 
of  the  poet  who  wrote,  — 

"  The  rank  is  but  the  guinea-stamp. 
The  man 's  the  gowd  for  a'  that." 

Fisher  Ames,  while  in  Congress,  said  of  Roger 
Sherman  of  Connecticut :  "  If  I  am  absent  dur- 
ing a  discussion  of  a  subject,  and  consequently 
know  not  on  which  side  to  vote,  I  always  look 
at  Roger  Sherman;  for  I  am  sure,  if  I   vote 


52  The  Aim  of  Life. 

with  him  I  shall  vote  right."  He  was  a  pious 
man,  says  his  biographer,  faithful  in  his  closet, 
in  his  family,  on  the  bench,  and  in  the  Senate- 
house. 

But  I  need  not  multiply  instances  of  tribute 
paid  to  character.  Thank  God,  they  abound ; 
there  is  no  one  of  you  but  knows  some  man  or 
woman  whose  beautiful  life  makes  the  earth 
fairer,  and  the  sunshine  more  bland,  and  gives  a 
sounder  health  to  society.  Genius  may  dazzle 
us,  but  character  draws  us  upward  like  a  celes- 
tial gravitation.  Accomplishments  may  win 
our  admiration,  but  character  commands  our 
respect,  while  it  shames  our  follies,  and  rebukes 
our  vices. 

Good  men  do  not  die.    Thrv  r  '^  o"t  o^  o"*" 
sight,  and  leave  the  walks  that  k  em  lone- 

some ;  but  in  their  moral  power  t  -use  among 
whom  they  lived,  they  abide,  absolving  life  from 
grossness,  and  keeping  it  wholesome.  Their 
names  become  household  words,  are  wrought 
into  our  speech,  and  add  a  new  value  to  coun- 
try and  home.  "  The  memory  of  the  just  is 
blessed." 

Vou  who  are  young  are  building  your  char- 
acters as  those  who  build  abiding  habitations. 

What  you  shall  be  in  moral  quality  and  power 
in  the  far  future,  not  only  of  time  but  also  of 


^^V^^\  'Hv"  WJ^ 


^■**w». 


,^-„-*v  v,#.!55    mms^m^tmi'.-^--''^'- 


a  pious 

s  closet, 

Senate- 

f  tribute 
abound ; 

man  or 
le  earth 
1  gives  a 
ly  dazzle 

a  celes- 
lay  win 
inds  our 

rebukes 

It  of  our 
em  lone- 
se  among 
life  from 
;.  Their 
wrought 
to  coun- 
e  just   is 

our  char- 
tations. 
nd  power 
It  also  of 


Character. 


53 


eternity,  you  are  now  determining  by  your 
choices  and  your  deeds,  by  the  thoughts  that 
you  cherish,  and  the  habits  that  you  form,  by 
your  purposes  and  your  faith.  The  situation  is 
most  interesting,  and  in  its  possibilities  it  is  un- 
speakably solemn.  Be  wise  now.  Remember 
that  you  are  not  alone  in  your  choice  and  en- 
deavor; God  is  with  you,  and  is  working  for 
you  and  in  you.  What  may  seem  an  insuper- 
ably difficult  task  to  you,  already  caught  in  the 
toils  of  nascent  habit.  He  will  enable  you  suc- 
cessfully to  achieve.  He  has  given  you  a  Saviour 
who  is  at  once  your  friend  and  exemplar.  Char- 
acter in  its  highest  form  is  Christ-likeness. 
Open  your  hearts  finely  to  him  ;  draw  upon 
the  inexhaustible  sources  of  his  power  and 
grace ;  live  in  his  companionship,  in  his  school, 
under  his  gentle  and  strong  mastership,  and 
by  him  you  will  be  safely  led,  until  at  last  you 
come  "  unto  a  perfect  man,  —  unto  the  measure 
of  the  stature  of  the  fulness  of  Christ." 


'mmmaiiimtfss^mtM'i-^'-'' 


HABIT. 


Habit  is  ten  tiiries  nature.—  Wellington. 
Small  habits,  well  pursued  betimes, 
May  reach  the  dignity  of  crimes. 

Hannah  More. 

It  is  easy  to  assume  a  habit;  but  when  you  try  to  cast  it 
6ff,  it  will  take  skin  and  all.—  H.  W.  Shaw. 

Habit  ia  the  deepest  law  of  human  nature.  It  is  our 
supreme  strength,  if  also,  in  certain  circumstances,  our  miser- 
ablest  weakness.—  Carlyle. 

The  law  of  the  harvest  is  to  reap  riiore  than  you  sow.  Sow 
an  act,  and  you  reap  a  habit;  sow  a  habit,  and  you  reap  a 
character ;  sow  a  character,  and  you  reap  a  destiny.—  Georoe 
Dana  Boardman. 

Keep  thy  heart  with  all  diligence,  for  out  of  it  are  the  issues 
of  life. — Proverbs  of  Solomon. 

"  O  ABIT  "  is  one  of  the  most  familiar  words 
'^  of  our  every-day  speech,  and  its  mean- 
ing is  so  well  known  that  to  define  it  now  seems 
superfluous;  yet  we  shall  find  it  both  interest- 
ing and  useful  to  trace  out  its  root  idea. 
"  Habit "  is  simply  the  Latin  habitus  anglicized 
by  dropping  the  final  syllable.  The  verb  habeo 
means  primarily  "  to  have,  to  possess,"  then, 
"  to  have  in  use,"  and  finally,  "  to  have  a  pecu- 


lORE. 

to  cast  it 

It  is  our 
Dur  miser- 
sow.  Sow 
ou  reap  a 
—  George 

!  ttie  issues 


ir  words 
:s  mean- 
w  seems 
interest- 
lOt  idea, 
nglicized 
.rh  habeo 
5,"  then, 
a  pecu- 


Habii. 


55 


Harity  or  characteristic,"  —  acquiring,  thus,  in  the 
Latin  the  exact  significance  which  is  expressed 
by  the  English  word.  "  Habit"  means  a  mode 
of  action  by  which  one  is  held  so  that  he  has  a 
fixed  disposition  to  act  always  according  to  that 
mode.  For  example,  a  man  has  a  habit  of  ris- 
ing at  a  certain  hour  in  the  morning,  —  that  is, 
he  is  held  by  the  disposition  which  brings  him 
involuntarily  to  his  feet  each  day  at  that  specific 
time;  or,  he  has  a  habit  of  using  stimulants, — 
that  is,  he  Is  held  by  the  nervous  condition 
which  makes  him  crave  the  exh'aration  of 
alcohol ;  or,  he  has  the  habit  of  promptness  in 
meeting  engagements, — that  is,  he  is  held  by  the 
impulse  to  fulfil  the  appointed  duty  at  the 
appointed  hour.  The  definitive  characteristic  of 
habit  is  the  involuntary  tendency  to  perform 
certain  acts,  yield  to  certain  impulses,  or  pass 
into  certain  states  of  temper  without  the  con- 
currence of  distinct  and  conscious  volitions. 

I.  Let  us  consider  the  tendency  to  form  habits. 
This  tendency  is  a  "constituent  element  of 
human  nature.  The  truth  is  not  simply  that  we 
may  form  habits;  we  must  form  habits.  We 
have  no  discretion  in  the  matter,  except  as  to 
the  kind  of  habits  that  we  form.  Man  is  a 
bundle  of  habits ;  character  is  the  sum-total  of 
a  man's  moral  habits.    Average  human  nature. 


mm 


fey^Mii^^^,^«tNHi^#.<6&rc*^^^«ltl«'<^d^fii^-)^^S^^ 


56 


TAe  Aim  of  Life. 


in  its  activities,  is  like  a  stream  which  see](s  the 
easiest  path  to  the  sea,  —  if  the  stream  is  hin- 
dered by  some  obstacle,   it  flows   round    the 
obstacle  and  so  moves  on  its  way;    but  how- 
ever tortuous  its  course  may  be,  it  has  a  definite 
main  trend,  and  it  wears  a  distinct  channel, 
which  it  keeps,  save  as  it  is  turned  aside  by 
some  external  force  greater  than  the  force  of 
its  own  current  and  the  resistance  of  its  banks. 
So  we,   in  our   activities,   naturally  seek  that 
course  which  meets  the  least  resistance,  and  is 
most  pleasant  to   us;    and  we   quickly   wear 
grooves  of  habit  that  hold  us  as  the  channel 
holds  the  river.     Our  course  may  be  directed 
simply    by    incliration,    and    then    inclination 
determines  habit     Our  wills,  however,  if  strong, 
and  ruled  by  conscience  and  judgment,  may 
determine  for  us  a  course  quite  different  from 
that  of  natural  inclination,  and  even  contrary  to 
inclination.    We  may  choose  a  course  that  is 
difficult  and  painful;   yet  even  in  this  case  a 
resolute  will  is  immediately  reinforced  by  the 
tendency  to  form  habit,  and  soon  that  which 
was  difficult  and   painful    becomes    easy  and 
pleasant,  and  inclination  itself  is  at  last  wholly 
transformed. 

Many  habits,  perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to 
say  that  most  habits,  begin  with  s  ngle,  volun- 


iri»nimMM-itrifim«i 


ee^s  the 
1  is  hin- 
und    the 
)ut  how- 
i  definite 
channel, 
aside  by 
force  of 
;s  banks, 
eek  that 
:,  and  is 
:ly   wear 
channel 
directed 
iclination 
if  strong, 
ent,  may 
ent  from 
•ntrary  to 
e  that  is 
is  case  a 
d  by  the 
tat  which 
easy  and 
St  wholly 

much  to 
le,  volun- 


Habii. 


57 


tary  acts.  The  repetition  of  an  act  discovers  in 
us  a  tendency  to  further  repetition,  until,  after  a 
time,  repetition  of  the  original  act  goes  on  invol- 
untarily. A  common  and  sufficient  illustration 
of  this  is  seen  in  the  physical  exercise  of  walk- 
ing.   The  first  step  is  a  voluntary  act;  it  is  a 


dt' 


it  and  even  perilous  act.     Watch  a  child 


leat.iing  to  walk,  and  you  will  see  the  germ  of  a 
habit  in  process  of  development.  Great  inter- 
est centres  in  the  little  novice  making  his  first 
experiment  at  "  getting  on  in  the  world."  What 
care  is  taken  by  the  fond  mother  that  the  exper- 
iment shall  result  in  no  mishap.  In  a  little  time 
that  which  was  at  first  an  uncertain  effort 
becomes  an  assured  habit,  and  walking  ceases 
to  be  self-conscious  and  voluntary ;  it  is  hence- 
forth instinctive  and  automatic. 

All  forms  of  physical  exercise  tend  to  pass 
thus  from  voluntary  beginnings  into  involuntary 
habits.  The  easy  grace  of  the  gymnast  or  the 
bicycle  rider,  or  the  precision  in  drill  and 
manual  of  the  disciplined  soldier,  is  simply  well- 
formed  and  developed  habit.  Essentially  the 
same  is  true  of  our  mental  and  moral  exercises. 
Habit  lies  at  the  basis  of  all  our  ordinary  action ; 
everything  that  we  do  repeatedly  becomes  easy 
and  habitual. 

"  How  use  doth  breed  a  habit  in  a  maa  t " 


s^^itea^^^isif' 


■!   4 


t 


1 


58 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


The  tendency  to  form  habits  is  persistent  and 
irresistible ;  and  on  the  higher  plane  of  life,  the 
intellectual  and  moral,  it  has  its  largest  scope 
and  most  fully  discloses  its  fateful  power.     It 
is  not  true  that  habit  has  its  spring  solely  in 
our  physical  organism;   but  it  is  true  that  all 
our  voluntary  acts  are  mediately  caused  by,  or 
inseparably  connected  with,  changes  in  nerve 
tissue    and    expenditure    of    nervous    energy. 
There  is  a  physical  side  to  all  our  activity  of 
mind  as  well  as  of  body.    The  change  of  tissue 
is  as  inevitable  an  accompaniment  of  thinking  as 
it  is  of  walking,  of  praying  as  of  playing  on  a 
piano.    The  exact  relation  of  mind  to  matter  in 
the  human  organism  is  still  an  unsolved  prob- 
lem;  but  this  at  least  is  clear,  that  mind  and 
body  are  inseparable  in  this  world.    This  also 
is  clear,  that  all  our  activities,  voluntary  as  well 
as  involuntary,  while  they  are  carried  on  at  the 
expense  of  nervous  energy,  also  react  on  our 
nervous  organism,  making  definite  and  more  or 
less  permanent  impressions.    While  all  habits 
can  scarcely  be  purely  physical,  most  of  them 
are  very  largely  and  some  of  them  wholly  phys- 
ical.   The  nervous  system  is  like  a  phonograph 
into  which  vibrations  are  continually  sent,  and 
these  vibrations  register  themselves  in  such  a 
way  that  they  are  not  only  reproducible,  but 


mmmiautimailkiaua^.. 


istent  and 
3f  life,  the 
rest  scope 
)ower.     It 

solely  in 
e  that  all 
sed  by,  or 
I  in  nerve 
s  energy, 
activity  of 
e  of  tissue 
thinking  as 
tying  on  a 
)  matter  in 
Ived  prob- 

mind  and 

This  also 
iry  as  well 

on  at  the 
ict  on  our 
id  more  or 

all  habits 
St  of  them 
loUy  phys- 
honograph 
/  sent,  and 

in  such  a 
uciblc,  but 


mmmmm 


Habit. 


59 


are  continually  reproduced.    This  is  evidently 
true  with  reference  to  all  habits  that  have  a 
predominantly  sensuous    manifestation.      Says 
Dr.  W.   li.   Carpenter :  "  Our  nervous   system 
grows  to  the  modes  in  which  it  has  been  exer- 
cised."    The  strength  of  the  habit  of  alcoholic 
intemperance  lies  in  this,  —  that  impressions  are 
scored  into  the  nervous  organism  by  stimulants, 
and  these  impressions  report  themselves  in  the 
demand  of  the  nerves  for  a  repetition  of  the 
stimulant.     At  first  the  demand  is  slight  for  the 
impression  is  slight;  but  successive  indulgences 
deepen  the  impressions,  and  thus  the  demand 
grows  strong  and  imperious.    The  appetite  for 
alcohol  is  fundamentally   physical,  though  its 
cause  may  be  an  act  of  the  will.     Once  formed, 
the  appetite  cannot  be  willed  out  of  existence 
any  more  than  a  wound  can  be  willed  out  of 
existence;  it  must  be  healed.  The  apprehension 
of  this  truth  has  led  many  of  the  wisest  thinkers 
to  the  conviction  that  the  habit  of  drunkenness 
falls  within  the  domain  of  medical  rather  than 
mora    pathology,   and   must  be  treated    as  a 
disease. 

Within  certain  wide  limits,  however,  the  ner- 
vous system  is  immediately  subject  to  the  influ- 
ence of  the  will ;  and  by  the  intelligent  use  of 
means  that  subjection  of  the  nerves  to  the  will 


6o 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


may  be  immensely  increased.  It  is  in  the  power 
of  a  man  "  to  keep  his  body  under,"  unless  he 
has  lost  his  power  by  suflfering  appetite,  through 
long  indulgence,  to  usurp  authority  over  him  ' 
until  it  has  intrenched  itself  in  confirmed  physi- 
cal habits. 

Habits  of  bodily  action  are  clearly  the  reflex 
of  impressions  repeatedly  made  on  the  nerves ; 
there  is  no  doubt  that  mental  and  moral  habits 
also  are  in  large  part  the  expression  of  reflex 
nervous  action.    Do  not  fear  that  I  am  approach- 
ing a  materialistic  conception  of  human  life. 
The  soul  of  man  is  not  matter ;  nor  is  it  depen- 
dent on  matter  for  existence,  though  it  is  de- 
pendent on  material  organs  for  expression.    The 
body  is  not  the  man,  but  the  man's  instrument. 
The  more  we  learn  about  it  and  its  relations  to 
the  soul  the  better ;  for  bodily  conditions  po- 
tently affect  the  entire  range  of  life,  from  those 
activities  which  ally  us  to  the  brute  up  to  those 
which  reveal  our  kinship  to  God.    Thought  is 
not  produced  by  the  brain ;  but  it  is  elaborated 
through   cerebral  instrumentation,  and,  appar- 
ently, is  registered  on  the  cerebral  tissues.    Our 
habits  of  thinking  have  thus  a  physical  basis.  This 
is  equally  true  of  our  spiritual  exercises,  for  all 
these  have  a  rational  element,  —  that  is,  they  all 
involve   mental   action,  and   mental  action    is 


n  the  power 
'  unless  he 
ite,  through 
{  over  him  ' 
rmed  physi- 

^  the  reflex 
the  nerves; 
noral  habits 
)n  of  reflex 
n  approach- 
human  life, 
is  it  depen- 
gh  it  is  de- 
!Ssion.    The 

instrument. 

relations  to 
nditions  po- 
,  from  those 

up  to  those 

Thought  is 
is  elaborated 
and,  appar- 
issues.  Our 
il  basts.  This 
cises,  for  all 
>t  is,  they  all 
al  action    is 


Habit. 


6l 


invariably  accompanied  by  physical  change. 
Our  feelings  also  have  their  accompaniment  of 
nerve-impressions.  Many  who  read  Dr.  Hol- 
land's "  Bitter- Sweet,"  when  it  appeared  thirty 
odd  years  ago,  were  shocked  because  he  made 
one  of  his  characters  moralize  over  a  barrel  of 
corned  beef  to  the  effect  that  the  beef  might, 

"  Nerve  the  toiler  at  his  task, 
A  soul  at  prayer." 

But,  aside  from  the  question  of  good  taste  and 
poetical  fitness,  we  can  have  no  quarrel  with  the 
author.  Food  makes  tissue  and  nerve-force, 
and  the  use  and  expenditure  of  these  are  as 
certainly  involved  in  worship  as  they  are  in 
work.  You  cannot  do,  or  say,  or  think,  or  feel 
anything  without  leaving  a  definite  mark  oa 
the  nervous  organism  which  more  or  less 
affects  all  succeeding  action  or  speech  or 
thought  or  feeling.  Habits  may  be  called  the 
grooves  that  are  worn  into  the  nerves  by  re- 
peated actions.  Memory,  while  it  is  a  true 
psychical  exercise,  has  its  physical  side;  re- 
membering  is  re-reading  impressions  which 
past  actions  of  the  mind  have  left  on  the  sen- 
sitive brain.  Although  this  is  not  an  exhaustive 
account  of  memory,  it  is  probably  a  true  account 
as  far  as  it  goes. 

A  thoughtful   investigation   of  this   subject, 


63 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


"  Habit,"  must  show  us  the  folly  and  even  sin 
of  neglecting  or  despising  the  body.  Through 
the  susceptibilities  of  the  body  we  are  contin- 
ually forming  those  habits,  cutting  deep  those 
channels  which  control  and  guide  the  larger 
part  of  our  conduct,  and  so  go  far  toward  deter- 
mining our  future.  Surely  it  was  a  prophetic 
insight  into  our  complex  nature  that  led  an  old 
writer  to  exclaim :  "  I  am  fearfully  and  won- 
derfully made !  " 

There   is   immense   practical   significance   in 
this  fact  of  the  physica^l  basis  of  habit.     Clear 
your  minds  of  the  notion  that  any  act  of  your 
lives  is  unimportant.     Single  acts  are  the  begin- 
nings of  habits ;  every  repetition  of  an  act  tends 
to  make  it  habitual,  and  the   forming  habit  is 
the    registry  of  emotions    and    thoughts    and 
deeds  in  the  very  substance   of  your  physical 
organism.      You  are   unconsciously   writing  a 
history  in  your  nerves,  and  this  history  you  can- 
not wipe  out  at  will,  as  you  may  wipe  out  a 
scrawl  on  a  blackboard ;   it  endures  and  it  re- 
produces itself.     The  thoughts  of  your  mind, 
the  purposes  and  impulses  of  your  heart,  your 
passions,  your  affections,  your  aspirations,  and 
your  beliefs  stamp  themselves  indelibly  on  your 
nervous  system;   they  cut  channels  of  habit; 
they  re-act  upon  your  soul  continually  for  good 


d  even  sin 
Through 
\re  contin- 
decp  those 
the  larger 
ward  detcr- 
i  prophetic 
led  an  old 
'  and  won- 

lificance  in 
ibit.  Clear 
act  of  your 
5  the  begin- 
in  act  tends 
ng  habit  is 
tughts  and 
ur  physical 
writing  a 
ry  you  can- 
ivipe  out  a 
s  and  it  re- 
your  mind, 
heart,  your 
rations,  and 
bly  on  your 
s  of  habit; 
Uy  for  good 


//aM. 


63 


or  ill;  they  shape  your  characters;  and  your 
character  is  what  you  are,  what  you  will  be 
always. 

You  cannot  avoid  forming  habits.  The  ten- 
dency to  form  them  is  part  of  your  original 
endowment;  it  is  given  to  you  only  to  deter- 
mine whether  your  habits  shall  be  evil  or  good, 
baleful  or  beneficent.  Have  a  care,  then,  over 
what  you  do,  and  what  you  think  and  feel. 
Safety  tid  happiness  aliVa  are  found  only  in 
practisiii^  those  actions  and  indulging  those 
tastes  v/hich  are  pure  and  right.  AU  wrong- 
doing, whether  it  be  outward  or  inward,  is  self- 
wounding. 

Any  act  once  perform*  '  is  repeated  with 
lessened  difficulty.  A  i  .  i  who  makes  a  shoe 
finds  it  easier  t'-  m-'ke  a  second  a  study  on 
the  piano,  thorc.glii  /  mastered,  givc.i  the  player 
increased  facility  in  mastering  another.  Rase 
and  skill  in  any  sort  of  performance  attest,  '  v 
veloped  habit;  a  lesson  learned  makes  all 
succeeding  lessons  easier.  The  same  is  true  of 
moral  actions;  '^very  sin  prepares  the  way  for 
another  sin.  The  first  conscious  lie  may  be 
painful  to  him  who  utters  it,  but  the  second  is 
less  painful,  and  the  third  still  less,  until  in  a 
little  time  lying  becomes  habitual  and  involun- 
tary.    A  generous  deed  promotes  a  sMCcession 


1        *!       • 


64 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


of  generous  deeds.  Our  highest  activities  illus- 
trate this  law  of  facility  attained  by  repetition. 
Even  faith  is  subject  to  the  habit-forming  ten- 
dency of  our  nature;  a  real  exercise  of  trust 
in  God  makes  it  less  difficult  to  trust  again  and 
again.  Prayer  may  become  habitual,  not  in 
form  merely  but  in  spirit,  so  that  at  last  one 
shall  pray  as  naturally  and  instinctively  as  he 
breathes.  Virtue  sedulously  practised  in  spite 
of  temptation  by-and-by  becomes  involuntary, 
almost  automatic.  Here  is  a  man  who  is  accom- 
plished in  righteousness.  Why  is  it  ?  Because 
he  has  practised  righteousness  until  the  habit  of 
doing  righteously  is  fixed.  Another  man  is 
confirmed  in  vice;  his  evil  accomplishment  is 
the  evidence  of  vicious  deeds  repeated  until  the 
repetition  has  become  instinctive,  and  he  is 
vicious  from  habit. 

Here  is  a  broad  and  significant  fact  of  human 
life ;  the  philosophy  of  it  we  may  not  be  able 
fully  to  formulate  or  grasp,  but  the  fact  is  plain. 
Our  first  business  in  life  is  to  adjust  ourselves  to 
indisputable  facts.  If  you  desire  to  be  virtuous 
you  must  begin  the  practice  of  virtue  at  once, 
even  though  inclination  and  temptation  combine 
to  make  it  difficult  and  even  painful.  Begin 
and  persist,  and  by-and-by  the  practice  will  be 
easy  and  delightful.    If  you  wish  to  be  a  Chris- 


'ities  illus- 
repetition. 
fining  ten- 
se of  trust 
again  and 
al,  not  in 
It  last  one 
vely  as  he 
id  in  spite 
ivoluntary, 
)  is  accom- 
'  Because 
he  habit  of 
er  man  is 
[ishment  is 
id  until  the 
and   he  is 

t  of  human 
lOt  be  able 
ict  is  plain, 
lurselves  to 
be  virtuous 
ue  at  once, 
)n  combine 
ful.  Begin 
tice  will  be 
be  a  Chris- 


//adif. 


65 


tian,  — that  is,  not  a  mere  "  professor,"  but  one 
who  lives  according  to  the  mind  of  Christ,  —  you 
must  take  the  first  step  voluntarily  and  resolutely ; 
God  has  made  it  possible  for  you  to  acquire  a 
trustful,  loving,  and  holy  habit. 

Remember  that  if  you  are  not  forming  habits 
in  one  direction,  you  are  forming  them  in 
another;  all  your  activities  are  making  chan- 
liels  in  which  your  energy  flows  toward  good  or 
evil.    As  Dryden  wrote :  — 

"  III  haUts  gather  by  unseen  degrees. 
As  brooks  make  rivers,  rivers  run  to  seas ;" 

and  as  Augustine  declared,  "  Habit,  if  not 
resisted,  soon  becomes  necessity." 

2.  Our  inherent  tendetuy  to  form  habits  is  a 
peril  or  a  safeguard,  according  as  our  choices  are 
wrong  or  right.  On  the  one  hand  we  are  in 
peril,  through  the  formation  of  evil  habits,  of 
becoming  hopelessly  fixed  in  evil  character. 
What  is  a  hardened  conscience  but  the  con- 
firmed habit  of  resisting  wholesome,  moral 
influences?  Depravity  is  not  an  inheritance, 
but  a  character  formed  by  the  persistent  habit 
of  disobeying  God;  it  approaches  complete- 
ness when  wickedness  becomes  easy.  Sir 
George  Staunton  told  a  friend  that  he  had 
visited  a  man  in  India  who  had  committed  a 

S 


p 


*-itete#<4»iAv«i,  ^^^ 


-i 


66         *        The  Aim  of  Life. 

murder.     This  man  —  in  order  not  only  to 
save  his  life,  but  what  was  of  much  greater 
consequence   to    him,   his   caste  —  had    sub- 
mitted to  the  penalty  imposed,  which  was,  that 
he  should  sleep  for  seven  years  on  a  bedstead 
without  any  mattress,   the  whole  surface   of 
which  was  studded  with  points  of  iron  resem- 
bling nails,  but  not  so  sharp  as  to  penetrate  his 
flesh.     Sir  George  saw  him  in  the  fifth  year  of 
his  probation,  and  his  skin  was  then  like  the 
hide  of  a  rhinoceros.     By  that  time  he  could 
sleep  comfortably  on  his  "bed  of  thorns; "  and 
he  remarked  that  at  the  expiration  of  the  seven 
years  he  should  probably  continue  from  choice 
the  system  which  he  had  adopted  from  neces- 
sity.   What  a  vivid  parable  of  a  sinful  life  this 
incident  presents !    Sin.  at  first  a  bed  of  thorns, 
after  a  time  becomes  comfortable  through  the 
deadening  of  moral  sensibility;  to  this  con- 
dition Saint  Paul  refers,  when  he   speaks  of 
those  who,  "being  past  feeling,  gave  them, 
selves  up  ...  to  work  all  uncleanness  with 
greediness. "    It  is  perilous  to  tamper  with  sin, 
however  strong  we  may  be.     "  Sins  are  at  first 
like  cobwebs,  but  at  last   like  cables."     On 
every  side  one  may  see  examples  of  bondage  to 
evil  habit.    Here  is  a  man  who  once  had  gener- 
ous impulses,  but  now  he  is  bound  fast  in  the 


only  to 
h  greater 
bad    sub- 
was,  that 
bedstead 
urface   of 
>n  resem- 
etrate  his 
th  year  of 
1  like  the 
he  could 
rns ; "  and 
the  seven 
om  choice 
om  neces- 
il  life  this 
of  thorns, 
trough  the 
this  con- 
speaks  of 
ave  tbeni' 
mess  with 
r  with  sin, 
are  at  first 
>les."     On 
bondage  to 
had  gener- 
fast  in  the 


ffaM. 


67 


chains  of  covetous  habit.  Here  is  another  who 
indulged  in  lustful  thoughts  and  desires  until 
the  habit  of  licentiousness  took  full  possession 
of  him ;  and  now  he  is  a  moral  leper.  Here  is 
another  who,  once  honest,  is  now  habitually 
dishonest.  No  one  of  these  intended  to  be 
what  he  has  become;  but  each  began  to  do 
evil,  perhaps  thoughtlessly,  and  at  last  evil 
has  passed  into  habit,  and  habit  has  crystal- 
lized into  character. 
But  habit  is  also  a  safeguard  of  virtue. 

"  That  monster.  Custom,  who  all  sense  doth  ea^ 
Of  habits  devil,  is  angel  yet  in  this, 
That  to  the  use  of  actions  fair  and  good, 
He  likewise  gives  a  frock  or  livery 
That  aptly  is  put  on.    Refrain  to-night, 
And  that  shall  lend  a  kind  of  easiness 
To  the  next  abstinence,  the  next  more  easy; 
For  use  almost  can  change  the  stamp  of  Nature, 

'  And  either  shame  the  Devil  or  throw  him  out 
With  wondrous  potency." ' 

John  Foster  has  said  that  "in  the  great 
majority  of  things  habit  is  a  greater  plague 
than  ever  afflicted  Egypt;  in  religious  charac- 
ter it  is  eminently  a  felicity.  The  devout  man 
exults  to  feel  that  in  aid  of  the  simple  force  of 
the  divine  principle  within  him  there  has 
grown  by  time  an  accustomed  power  which 
has  almost  taken  the  place  of  his  will,  and 


PLf 


•'■fri^i'^^-^i'--\if:'^i:i.- 


68  The  Aim  of  Life. 

holds  a  firm  though  quiet  domination  through 
the  general  action  of  his  mind.     He  feels  this 
confirmed  habit  as  the  grasp  of  the  hand  of 
God,   which  will  never  let  him  go."    It  is 
impossible  to  over-estimate  the  value  of  good 
habits.     We  see  readily  the  force  of  an  evil 
habit;  perhaps  we  need  not  look  beyond  our 
own  experience  for  examples.     Many  a  Chris- 
tian man  finds  his  present  life  a  continuous 
fight  against  habits  which  he  formed  before  he 
became  a  Christian.     Sometimes  we  feel  as  if 
a  demon  had  got  intrenched  in  our  very  flesh, 
and  holding  such  vantage  ground,  plagues  us 
with  terrible  power.     He  who  is  involved  in 
such  a  struggle  comes  into  a  new  and  most 
vivid    understanding    of    Saint    Paul's    cry: 
"  Wretched  man  that  I  am !    Who  shall  deliver 
me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ? "    The  physical 
basis  of  habit  often  retards  the  outward  pro- 
cess of  sanctification  so  much  that  a  man's  life 
is  but  a  poor  index  of  his  real  spiritual  attain- 
ments.    It  suggests  also  a  new  aspect  of  death 
as  the  minister  of  God's  grace  to  some  of  His 
beleaguered  children.     Take  heart,  O  strug- 
gling soul;  the  fight  is  long  and  hard;  but  by- 
and-by  kind  death  will  give   the  full  liberty 
from  the  flesh  which  you  so  earnestly  desire  I 
Sin  holds  its  seat  in  the  nerves  long  after  its 


inaswig* 


through 
:els  this 
iiand  of 
•     It   is 
of  good 
an  evil 
ond  our 
1  Chris- 
itinuous 
efore  he 
eel  as  if 
iry  flesh, 
igues  us 
olved  in 
nd  most 
I's    cry: 
,1  deliver 
physical 
rard  pro- 
lan's life 
il  attain- 
of  death 
le  of  His 

0  strug- 
;  but  by- 

1  liberty 
ly  desire! 
;  after  its 


Habit, 


69 


power  over  the  spirit  is  broken;  surely  when 
the  compassionate  grave  receives  the  perverted 
nerves,  the  tormented  spirit  will  find  peace. 

But  while  we  are  familiar  with  the  truth  that 
there  is  tremendous  power  in  evil  habits,  we 
do  not  so  readily  nor  so  clearly  perceive  that 
there  is  equal  power  in  good  habits.  The  rea- 
son is,  perhaps,  that  we  are  slower  to  form 
good  habits,  unless  we  are  exceptionally  placed 
in  the  midst  of  good  influences,  because  the 
formation  of  good  habits  involves  self-  estraint 
and  discipline,  while  the  formation  of  evil 
habits  does  not.  Still  this  great  conservative 
tendency  of  our  nature  —  the  tendency  to  form 
habits  —  can  be  fully  utilized  in  the  interests 
of  a  holy  life.  Good  habits  can  be  formed,  and 
when  they  are  formed  they  have  all  the  inher- 
ent and  characteristic  strength  of  habits;  they 
are  the  bulwarks  of  religious  faith  and  the 
impregnable  citadels  of  virtue.  From  one 
point  of  view  the  most  eminent  virtues  are  only 
perfected  habits.  Many  a  man  owes  his  suc- 
cess in  business  to  the  early  formation  of 
habits  of  diligence  and  economy  and  persever- 
ance. I  remember  a  boy  who  formed  the  habit 
at  his  father's  wood-pile  of  never  giving  up  a 
tough  knot  until  he  had  sent  his  axe  through 
the  very  heart  of  it;  and  many  a  time,  I  am 


R 


70  The  Aim  of  Life. 

sure,  that  boy  has  found  help  in  life's  hardest 
struggles  from  the  discipline  got  on  that  wood- 
pile, and  the  habit  there  formed  of  accomplish- 
ing what  he  attempted.     The  patient  effort 
to  overcome  difficulties  begets  the  habit  of 
overcoming  difficulties,  until  finally  difficulties 
cease  to  be  formidable.     Education,    rightly 
conceived,    is  the    habit   of    sound    thinking 
secured  through  repeated,  systematic  exercise 
of  the  rational  faculties.     Not  only  the  mind 
but  the  brain  itself  is  involved  in  the  process 
of  education  to  such  a  degree  that  its  confor- 
mation, and  to  some  extent  its  very  structure, 
are  changed.     "The  great  thing  in  all  educa- 
tion," says  Professor  James,  "is  to  make  our 
nervous  system  our  ally  instead  of  our  enemy. 
It  is  to  fund  and  capitalize  our  acquisitions, 
and  live  at  ease  upon  the  interest  of  the  fund. 
For  this  we  must  make  automatic  and  habitual 
as  early  as  possible,  as  many  useful  actions  as  we 
can,  and  guard  against  the  growing  into  ways  that 
are  likely  to  be  disadvantageous  to  us,  as  we 
would  guard  against  the  plague."    Education 
-  is  thus  mainly  the  forming  of  good  mental 
habits.     Rectitude  is  only  the  confirmed  habit 
of  doing  what  is  right.     The  simple,  common 
graces  of    politeness    and   amiability,   which 
some  people  exhibit  so  constantly  and  win- 


hardest 
,t  wood- 
mplish- 
t   effort 
labit  of 
acuities 
rightly 
hinking 
exercise 
le  mind 
process 
confor- 
ructure, 
1  educa- 
lake  our 
•  enemy, 
isitions, 
he  fund, 
habitual 
)ns  as  we 
i^ays  that 
IS,  as  we 
ducation 
[  mental 
ed  habit 
common 
r,   which 
ind  win- 


Habit. 


71 


ningly,  often  are  not  the  result  of  a  constitu- 
tional advantage  over  others,  but  of  polite  and 
amiable  habits  patiently  formed.  Cheerfulness 
is  a  habit  that  may  be  cultivated  to  such  a 
degree  as  to  render  gloominess  and  moroseness 
impossible.  The  habit  of  seeing  the  good 
there  is  in  every  day's  experience  has  contrib- 
med  largely  to  the  success  of  many  a  man 
in  business  or  in  a  profession.  David  Hume 
declared  that  the  habit  of  seeing  the  bright 
side  of  things  was  worth  more  than  a  thousand 
pounds  a  year.  Men  and  women  sometimes 
complain,  of  having  "the  blues;"  they  are 
victims  of  a  doleful  habit  which  they  need  not 
have  acquired,  and  for  which  they  are  clearly 
responsible.  Benevolence,  too,  is  a  habit;  no 
man  gives  largely  and  beautifully  till  he  has 
learned  to  give,  —  that  is,  till  he  has  formed 
the  habit  of  giving.  Prayer  also  may  become 
a  habit;  not  as  a  form  merely,  though  in  the 
matter  of  form  habit  is  a  help,  but  as  a  genuine 
spiritual  exercise,  —  a  movement  of  the  soul 
toward  God  in  worship  and  communion. 

Thus  there  is  in  our  tendency  to  form  habits, 
and  our  ability  to  form  habits,  a  powerful  con- 
servative force  for  good.  The  perfect  righteous- 
ness of  saints  in  heaven  is,  from  one  point  of 
view,  but  the  finished  habit  of  living  rightly, 


!,"', 


u 


72 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


—  of  "  doing  justly,  loving  mercy,  and  walking 
humbly  with  God." 

3.  Finally,  consider  the  importance  of  forming 
right  habits  in  youth.    Then  the  nature  is  plastic 
and  easily  pressed  into  any  mould;    then  the 
nervous  system  as  well  as  the  mind  is  most  sus- 
ceptible  to  impressions,   and   impressions   are 
most  enduring.    The  course  of  most  lives  is 
determined  before  the  first  twenty  or  twenty-five 
years  have  passed,  because  during  those  years 
the  habits  which  mould  character  are  formed. 
•'  Live  as  long  as  you  may,"  said  Southey,  "  the 
first  twenty  years  are  the  longest  half  of  your 
life,"    Smiles  tells  us  that  when  the  worn-out 
slanderer  and  voluptuary.  Dr.  Walcott,  lay  on 
his  death-bed,  one  of  his  friends  asked  'if  he 
could  do  anything  to  gratify  him.    "  Yes,"  said 
the  dying  man,  eagerly,  "give  me  back  my 
youth."     It  was  a  vain  request;    there  is  no 
renewal  of  the  ingenuousness  and  plasticity  of 
youth.     Opportunities  once  lost,  are  lost  for- 
ever.   Evil  habits  that  have  become  wholly  pos- 
sessed of  a  man  are  relentless  tyrants,  —  rather, 
they  are  fetters  which  youth  forges  and  which 
old  age  has  no  power  to  break.    Disregard  of 
this  truth  has  brought  remediless  disaster  and 
unappeasable  sorrow  to  many  a  soul.   Augustine 
in  his  "  Confessions  "  bears  impressive  testimony 


"■''■^''*'*-^  "r'JiBJPPii*"*'""'" 


walking 

forming 
\  plastic 
len  the 
ost  sus- 
ons   are 
lives  is 
snty-five 
te  years 
formed. 
:y,  "  the 
of  your 
vorn-out 
,  lay  on 
id  "if  he 
es,"  said 
ack  my 
-e  is  no 
iticity  of 
lost  for- 
oUy  pos- 
-  rather, 
d  which 
egard  of 
ster  and 
ugustine 
sstimony 


Habit. 


73 


to  the  force  of  evil  habit;  he  says:  "My  will 
the  enemy  held,  and  thence  had  made  a  chain 
for  me,  and  bound  me.  For  of  a  froward  will 
was  a  lust  made ;  and  a  lust  served  became  cus- 
tom ;  and  custom  not  resisted  became  necessity. 
By  which  links,  as  it  were,  joined  together,  a 
hard  bondage  held  me  inthralled." 

There  are  few  men  who  do  not  live  to  regret 
habits  formed  in  their  youth.  If  only  the  young 
would  be  wise  enough  to  heed  the  examples  and 
warnings  of  the  old!  Professor  James,  in  his 
work  on  psychology,  has  written  so  intelligently 
and  sagaciously  that  I  cannot  forbear  quoting 
somewhat  at  length.     He  says:  — 

"  The  physiological  study  of  mental  conditions  is  thus 
the  most  powerful  ally  of  hortatory  ethics.  The  hell  to 
be  endured  hereafter,  of  which  theology  tells,  is  no  worse 
than  the  hell  we  make  for  ourselves  in  this  world  by 
habitually  fashioning  our  characters  in  the  wrong  way. 
Could  the  young  but  realize  how  soon  they  will  become 
mere  walking  bundles  of  habits,  they  would  give  more 
heed  to  their  conduct  while  in  the  plastic  state.  We 
are  spinning  our  own  fates,  good  or  evil,  and  never  to 
be  undone.  Every  smallest  stroke  of  virtue  or  of  vice 
leaves  its  never  so  little  scar.  The  drunken  Rip  Van 
Winkle,  in  Jefferson's  play,  excuses  himself  for  every 
fresh  dereliction  by  saying, '  I  won't  count  this  time  I ' 
Well,  he  may  not  count  it,  and  a  kind  Heaven  may 


74  The  Aim  of  Life. 

not  count  it ;  but  it  is  being  counted  none  the  less. 
Down  among  his  nerve-cells  and  fibres  the  molecules 
are  counting  it,  registering  and  storing  it  up  to  be  used 
against  him  when  the  next  temptation  comes.     Noth- 
ing we  ever  do  is,  in  strict  scientific  literalness,  wiped 
o\xX."  —  Fsyehol.  Vol.  I.  p.  i ay- 
Have  you  thought  how  significant  is  the  fact 
that  most  active,  fruitful  Christians  became  such 
when  they  were  young ;  and  that  the  men  and 
women  of  sterling  character  whom  you  know 
received  their  life's  bent  in  early  years;    that 
the  patient  and  the  pure  and  the  generous  — 
those  whom  all  admire  and  love  — are  but  re- 
vealing the  force   and  result  of  early  formed 
habits  ?    A  young  tree  can  be  bent  to  any  shape 
with   ease,  but  a  tree  that  has  weathered  the 
storms  of  fifty  years  cannot  be  changed.     How 
few  persons  are  radically  changed  in  mature 
life.    Habit  is  fixed;  the  character  is  set;  the 
life-current  has  worn  deep  channels  that  hold 
it  as  the  rocky  walls  of  its  caflon  hold  the 
ancient  river. 

Young  men  and  women,  take  this  truth  home 
to  your  hearts:  you  are  responsible  to  God 
and  to  humanity  for  your  habits,  for  upon  these 
depends  your  usefulness  or  harmfulness  in  the 
world.  I  do  not  mean  merely  those  external 
habits  which  are  mainly  physical  in  their  man- 


•    I  iiiBiiWiiiiiiiiiiiiiiam  uiiiiiiiii 


^^mn-i 


le  the  less. 
;  molecules 
to  be  used 
les.  Noth- 
aess,  wiped 

is  the  fact 
:ame  such 
;  men  and 
you  know 
:ars;  that 
enerous  — 
ire  but  re- 
ly formed 

any  shape 
thered  the 
red.  How 
in  mature 
is  set;  the 

that  hold 
I  hold  the 

ruth  home 
le  to  God 
upon  these 
less  in  the 
se  external 
their  man- 


//adil 


75 


ifestation  as  well  as  their  basis,  but  those  in- 
ward habits  which  determine  the  quality  of  your 
moral  life  and  influence,  —  your  habits  of  feel- 
ing and  thinking  and  willing,  of  speaking  and 
doing.  God  has  given  you  the  precious,  peril- 
ous power  of  shaping  your  future  by  giving 
you  the  power  of  choice  and  of  ruling  your  own 
growth.  The  alternative  is  before  every  one: 
on  this  hand,  good,  on  that,  evil ;  and  God  has 
said :  "  Choose  ye  which  ye  will."  But  He  has 
not  left  you  alone  in  the  choice;  the  energy 
of  His  love,  the  instruction  of  His  word  written 
in  the  Bible,  in  history,  in  Nature,  and  in  your 
own  constitution,  and  the  quickening  force  of 
His  spirit,  all  combine  to  help  you  in  your 
choice  and  execution  of  the  good.  What  shall 
be  the  issue  if  you  choose  the  evil?  You  can 
not  urge  habit  as  an  excuse  for  sin,  for  you 
make  habit  and  must  account  for  that.  You 
cannot  drift  into  righteousness.  Habits  must 
be  formed  consciously  and  with  vigilant  pur- 
pose ;  you  must  create  righteous  habit  by  reso- 
lutely willing  to  do  righteously.  Sin  may  be 
forgiven,  but  forgiveness  does  not  unbind  the 
fetters  of  habit.  The  love  and  power  of  God 
will  enable  you  to  resist  and  overcome  evil 
habits  already  formed ;  but  the  soul  that  would 
enter  into  life  must  strive. 


i 


76 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


Gird  yourselves,  then,  for  the  great  achieve- 
ment of  a  righteous  life,  and  open  your  heart  to 
the  spiritual  forces  that  will  vitalize  and  ener- 
gize your  whole  being  for  the  glorious  and 
successful  struggle. 

"Thronging  through  the  cloud-rift,  who»e  are  they,  tha  facci 
Faint  revealed  yet  sure  divined,  the  famous  ones  of  old  ? 
•  What  • — they  smile  —  •  our  names,  our  deeds  so  soon  erase* 
Time  upon  his  tablet  where  Life's  glory  lies  enrolled  ? 

" '  Was  it  for  mere  fool's-play,  make-believe,  and  mumming. 
So  we  battled  It  like  men,  not  boyllke  sulked  or  whined  ? 
Each  of  us  heard  cUng  God's  "Gomel"  and  each  waa 
coming  : 
Soldiers  all,  to  forward-face,  not  sneaks  to  lag  behind ! 

" '  How  of  the  field's  fortune  ?    That  concerned  our  Leader  I 
Led,  we  struck  our  stroke,  nor  cared  for  doings  left 
and  right : 
Each  as  on  his  sole  head,  failcr  or  succeeder, 
Lay  the  blame,  or  lit  the  praise :  no  care  for  cowards : 
fight t' 

"Then  the  cloud-rift  broadens,  spanning  earth  that 's  under, 
Wide  our  world  displays  Its  worth,  man's   strife   and 
strife's  success ; 
All  the  good  and  beauty,  wonder  crowning  wonder, 
Till  my  heart  and  soul  applaud  perfection,  nothing  less." 


*#*" 


it  achjcve- 
ir  heart  to 
and  ener- 
>rious  and 


ey,  this  facet 
anes  of  old  ? 
■o  toon  ersMHi 
enrolled  ? 

I  mumming, 
I  or  whined  t 
ind  each  WM 

ig  behind  I 

our  Leader  I 
>r  doings  left 


for  cowards: 


:hat's  under, 
t'g   strife   and 

mder, 
lothing  less." 


WS^ 


COMPANIONSHIP. 

Hr  that  walketh  with  wise  men  shall  be  Yilae.  —  Prcverii 
oj  Solomon. 

Keep  good  company,  and  you  shall  be  of  the  number.-" 
Georok  Herbert. 

No  man  In  effect  doth  accompany  with  others,  l,ut  he  learn- 
eth,  ere  he  is  aware,  some  gesture,  voice,  or  fashion.  —  Lord 
Bacon. 

I  set  it  down  as  a  maxim,  that  it  is  good  for  a  man  to  live 
where  he  can  meet  his  betters,  intellectual  and  moral.— 
Thackeray. 

It  is  better  and  safer  to  ride  alone  than  to  have  a  thiefs 
company;  and  such  is  a  wicked  man,  who  will  rob  thee  of 
precious  time,  if  he  do  thee  no  more  mischief.  —  Spencrr. 

It  is  certain  that  either  wise  bearing,  or  ignorant  carriage,  is 
caught  as  men  take  diseases,  one  of  another;  therefore,  let 
men  take  heed  of  their  company.  —  Shakes?ears. 

Be  not  deceived ;  evil  companionships  corrupt  good  morals. 
—  Saint  Paul. 

TN  the  beginning  of  his  famous  essay  on 
"  Friendship,"  Lord  Bacon  quotes  some  one 
as  saying  that,  "  whosoever  is  delighted  in  soli- 
tude, is  either  a  wild  beast  or  a  god."  The 
quotation  was  probably  a  condensed  reproduc- 
tion from  memory  of  Aristotle's  saying  in  the 


■m 


78 


T/te  Aim  of  Life. 


"  Politica,"  that  "  He  who  is  unable  to  mingle  in 
society,  or  who  requires  nothing,  by  reason  of 
sufficing  for  himself,  is  no  part  of  the  state,  so 
that  either  he  is  a  wild  beast  or  a  divinity."  It 
is  true  that  man  is  naturally  and  universally  a 
social  being.  He  cannot  easily  live  alone;  at 
least,  no  one  in  mental  and  moral  health  is 
willingly  solitary.  We  are  all  drawn  to  our 
kind  by  deep  and  almost  ineradicable  instinct; 
there  is  something  confessedly  abnormal  and 
even  monstrous  in  the  confirmed  recluse.  But 
obligation  as  well  as  inclination  binds  us  to  our 
fellow-men.  Society  is  the  sphere  of  our  moral 
duties ;  and  it  is  also  the  necessary  condition  of 
the  development  and  fulfilment  of  our  individual 
life.  Each  man  completes  himself  in  other  men. 
The  command,  "  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself,"  expresses  no  arbitrary  requi.  *ment, 
but  a  duty  to  self  as  well  as  to  the  neighbor ;  it 
is  in  some  sense  a  formula  of  rational  and  moral 
development.  I  need  to  love  my  neighbor  quite 
as  much  as  my  neighbor  needs  me  to  love  him. 
But  it  is  also  true  that  at  times  we  seek  and 
need  solitude  because  of  certain  inward  experi- 
ences that  absorb  our  energies  and  make 
companionship  temporarily  painful,  or  even 
impossible.  A  great  sorrow  or  a  great  tempta- 
tion, or  even  a  great  joy,  may  drive  the  soul  into. 


^m^\ 


ningle  in 
reason  of 
state,  so 
nity."  It 
versally  a 
alone;  at 
health  is 
n  to  our 
:  instinct; 
>rmal  and 
use.  But 
us  to  our 
our  moral 
ndition  of 
individual 
ather  men. 
r  neighbor 
:jui.  "ment, 
ighbor;  it 
and  moral 
;hbor  quite 
love  him. 
!  seek  and 
rd  expcri- 
ind  make 
,  or  even 
at  tempta- 
e  soul  into. 


Companionship. 


79 


loneliness;  this  loneliness,  however,  must  be 
transient,  and  the  normal  condition  of  our  lives 
Vi  that  of  conscious  relatedness  and  companion- 
ship. The  Christ  descended  alike  from  the 
mount  of  temptation  and  the  mount  of  trans- 
figuration to  mingle  his  life  afresh  with  the  life 
of  humanity.  The  Christian  doctrine  of  the 
Trinity  formulates  the  instinctive  repugnance  of 
the  human  mind  to  the  idea  of  absolute,  divine 
solitariness,  as  if  the  very  manifoldness  of  the 
divine  nature  were  necessary  to  the  perfect 
divine  felicity.  Jesus  himself  finds  the  type  of 
human  unity  in  the  unity  of  the  Father  and  the 
Son. 

Our  life,  at  least,  is  'neither  complete  nor 
healthful  save  as  it  is  blended  with  the  common 
life  of  our  fellow-beings.  -We  instinctively  seek 
friendships,  and  the  reliefs  and  helps  which 
friendships  bring  to  us,  in  all  our  ordinary 
experiences  of  joy  and  grief.  Lord  Bacon, 
with  his  wonted  wisdom,  said,  "  The  communi- 
cating of  a  man's  self  to  his  friend  works  two 
contrary  effects,  for  it  redoubleth  joys  and  cut- 
teth  griefs  in  halves ;  for  there  is  no  man  that 
imparteth  his  joys  to  his  friend,  but  he  joyeth 
the  more ;  and  no  man  that  imparteth  his  griefs 
to  his  friend,  but  he  grieveth  the  less."  There 
is  an  exquisite  German  proverb,  — 


J>MiiiOTillWMI" 


1^ 


8o  The  Aim  of  Life. 

"  Geteilte  Freude,  doppelte  Freude ; 
Geteilter  Schmerz,  halber  Schmerz." 

Which  may  be  rendered, 

Divided  joys  are  doubled  joys, 
Divided  sorrow  b  sorrow  halved. 

With  rare  exceptions  both  joy  and  sorrow 
waken  the  impulse  to  communicate  to  others 
what  we  feel. 

Our  susceptibility  to  society  appears  vividly 
in  the  great  and  indefinable  influence  of  a  multi- 
tude upon  our  moods  and  our  nature.  We  are 
drawn  to  a  multitude  as  by  gravitation,  and 
under  its  influence  for  the  moment  almost  lose 
our  individuality  in  the  common  impulse  by 
which  it  is  swayed.  How  often  men  speak  and 
act  in  a  crowd  as  they  would  not,  as  they  could 
not,  if  they  were  alone.  A  considerable  part  of 
the  conduct  of  most  men  is  the  result  not  of 
individual  conviction  and  purpose,  but  of  pop- 
ular temper  and  tendency.  The  individual  is 
raised  above  himself,  or  sunk  below  himself,  by 
the  temporary  judgment  or  passion  of  the  crowd. 
This  is  true  also  in  the  narrower  sphere  of  one's 
immediate  companionships.  Rarely  does  a  man 
act  with  entire  independence;  the  influence  of 
those  about  him  affects  him  unconsciously  and 
more  or  less  qualifies  all  the  expression  of  his 
life. 


H 


I^PPW^^T" 


Hi 


1    sorrow 
to  others 

rs  vividly 
if  a  multi- 
We  are 
tion,  and 
most  lose 
ipulse  by 
peak  and 
:hey  cou/d 
le  part  of 
lit  not  of 
t  of  pop- 
ividual  is 
imself,  by 
he  crowd, 
•e  of  one's 
oes  a  man 
fluence  of 
ously  and 
ion  of  his 


Companionship. 


8i 


But  my  purpose  now  is  to  consider  not  the 
general  subject  of  man's  relation  to  society,  but 
the  more  specific  subject  of  companionship.  A 
companion,  according  to  the  root-idea  of  the 
word,  is  one  with  whom  we  eat  bread,  —  from 
con,  with,  or  together,  and  pants,  bread.  One's 
companions  are  those  with  whom  he  associates ; 
a  certain  degree  of  intimacy  is  implied.  A 
distinction  is  sometimes  drawn  between  com- 
panions and  friends:  one's  friends  being  those 
with  whom,  in  frank  confidence,  he  shares  his 
inner  life ;  while  his  companions  include,  besides 
friends,  those  with  whom  he  lives  on  a  more  or 
less  familiar  but  not  Intimate  footing.  The  dis- 
tinction is  a  true  one ;  for  while  companions  may 
be  many,  friends  are  few.  However,  for  my 
present  purpose,  I  may  disregard  this  distinc- 
tion, and  I  ask  you  to  think  about  the  influence 
and  the  obligations  of  companionship.  What 
I  have  to  say  falls  easily  under  these  two 
heads : — 

1.  The  Influence  of  Companions ; 

2.  The  Choice  of  Companions. 

I.  At  the  outset  let  us  understand  clearly 
that  each  of  us  is  sure  to  be  influenced  by  those 
who  are  about  him,  with  whom  he  talks  and 
works  and  lives.  Some  are  influenced  less  than 
others  by  their  associates,  for  some  natures  have 

6 


timnmm 


82 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


little  impressibility.  These  may  be  neither  the 
nobler  nor  the  .stronger  natures,  for  a  high 
degree  of  susceptibility  to  human  influence  is 
quite  compatible  with  a  robust  and  self-respect- 
ing individuality.  But  most  of  us  are  suscep- 
tible to  a  far  greater  degree  than  we  are  aware. 
The  tides  of  life  that  pour  upon  us  continually 
leave  their  impress  for  good  or  ill  in  our 
thoughts,  our  habits,  and  our  characters.  The 
majority  of  men  belong  to  their  own  generation, 
in  the  sense  that  they  are  generically  like  their 
contemporaries.  Here  and  there  arises  a  stal- 
wart individual  who  lives  in  advance  of  his 
time,  and  even  presents  a  type  of  a  generation 
to  come.  These  are  prophetic  men,  —  great 
thinkers  like  Roger  Bacon  and  Giordano 
Bruno  and  Ephraem  Gotthold  L>.ssing,  and 
great  reformers  like  Wicklif  and  Huss  and 
Savonarola.  But  most  men  are  children  of 
their  own  time,  the  assimilating  force  of  society 
being  greater  than  the  differencing  force  of 
individuality.  In  the  narrow  circle  of  each  one  s 
acquaintance  the  influence  of  companionship 
on  character  is  most  clearly  seen.  There  is  an 
old  English  proverb:  "Tell  me  with  whom 
thou  goest,  and  I  '11  tell  thee  what  thou  doest." 
Our  conduct  is  constantly  and  .  owerfully 
affected  by  those  with  whom  we  continually 


her  the 

a  high 

lence  is 

respect- 

suscep- 

aware. 

itinually 

in   our 

.    The 

leration, 

ke  their 

s  a  stal- 

of   his 

neration 

—  great 

jiordano 

ing,   and 

uss    and 

Idren   of 

f  society 

force  of 

tch  one  s 

nionship 

ere  is  an 

h  whom 

I  doest." 

)werfully 

ntinually 


Companionship. 


83 


associate.  We  cannot  evade  this  influence. 
We  may  determine  whether  our  associates  shall 
be  good  or  bad,  and  thus  whether  the  influence 
upon  us  shall  be  helpful  or  harmful,  but  we 
cannot  escape  the  dynamic  environment.  "  Be 
not  deceived,"  said  Saint  Paul,  "  evil  compan- 
ionships corrupt  good  morals."  We  almost 
inevitably  take  the  moral  tone  of  our  chosen 
surroundings.  This  is  one  side  of  the  truth,  but 
there  is  another;  if  evil  associates  corrupt  us, 
good  associates  purify  and  elevate  us.  But  the 
truth  that  I  would  press  upon  your  minds  until 
you  cannot  forget  it  is  this:  Whatever  your 
companionships  may  be,  they  must  and  will 
exert  a  profound  influence  on  your  characters. 
Ignorance  of  this  truth,  or  disregard  of  it,  is 
sure  to  result  in  serious  damage.  Do  not  think 
that  you  can  company  with  coarse  fellows  and 
not  grow  coarse  yourself.  Do  not  think  that 
you  can  associate  habitually  with  the  impure 
and  at  the  same  time  preserve  your  own  purity. 
Lavater  said :  "He  who  comes  from  the  kitchen 
smells  of  its  smoke ;  he  who  adheres  to  a  sect 
has  something  of  its  cant;  the  college  air  pur- 
sues the  student,  and  dry  inhumanity  him  who 
herds  with  literary  pedants,"  There  is  a  Latin 
proverb:  "If  you  always  live  with  those  who 
are  lame,  you  will  yourself  learn  to  limp." 


I 


^^SSBRSfiSSS^ 


WA 


saae 


84 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


The  most  serious  mistakes  of  ingenuous 
youth  are  made  in  the  choice  of  companions. 
Susceptibility  to  the  charms  of  cleverness  and 
good  fellowship,  enthusiasm  and  ignorance  of 
the  world,  combine  to  make  them  easy  victims  of 
the  designing,  or  to  blind  them  to  the  real  char- 
acter of  those  whom  circumstance  makes  their 
companions.  No  generous  young  man  coldly 
chooses  to  do  evil,  or  knowingly  accepts  the  bad 
as  his  associates.  There  are  many  who  would 
shrink  with  horror  from  becoming  vulgar  and 
profane  and  licentious,  who  would  passionately 
recoil  from  the  thought  of  committing  a  deed  of 
dishonesty  or  shame,  who  yet  thoughtlessly  allow 
themselves  to  enter  into  fellowship  with  those 
whose  influence  is  evil ;  and  in  a  little  time  imper* 
ceptibly  their  fine  sense  of  honor  is  blunted,  their 
purity  is  tainted,  their  good  impulses  are  weak- 
ened and  overborne,  and  in  a  few  years  they 
become  capable  of  unanticipated  grossness  or 
even  crime.  There  are  many  young  men  in  this 
city  to-night  who  not  long  ago  came  here  com- 
paratively pure,  with  instincts,  if  not  principles, 
of  truthfulness  and  uprightness ;  but  already 
they  have  passed  through  a  sinister  transforma- 
tion. They  have  become  knowing  with  a  ques- 
tionable knowledge.  Their  speech  is  marked 
by  smartness  and  ready  innuendo  that  easily 


Companionship. 


85 


opens  into  actual  obscenity.  They  have  learned 
to  swear  and  swagger.  They  frequent  the 
saloons,  are  familiar  with  the  back  entrances  to 
the  theatres,  and  know  the  way  to  places  where 
shame  holds  perpetual  carnival.  Some  of  them 
have  acquired  the  art  of  cheating  washerwomen 
and  boarding-house  keepers,  and  of  clandes- 
tinely borrowing  money  from  their  employer's 
till.  They  are  fast  young  men,  —  fast  indeed !  — 
journeying  fast  down  the  road  to  physical  and 
intellectual  and  moral  ruin.  Have  I  not 
sketched  truly,  if  in  outline,  the  biography  of 
many  a  young  man  in  every  great  city  of  our 
land?  Again  and  again,  with  little  variations  of 
detail,  does  the  Christian  minister  hear  from  the 
trembling  lips  of  broken-hearted  fathers  the 
story  of  sons  who  have  gone  down  into  an 
earthly  perdition,  and  the  explanation  of  it  all 
in  the  significant  words :  "  They  began  running 
with  bad  company."  So  too  there  ere  young 
women  in  this  city  to-night  whose  permaturely 
faded  cheeks  bear  the  brand  of  vice  and 
shame,  whose  "  feet  go  down  to  death,"  whose 
"  steps  take  hold  on  hell."  Not  very  long  ago 
some  of  these  were  innocent  and  full  of  good 
impulses;  they  meant  no  evil,  but,  careless 
and  wayward,  they  joined  hands  unwittingly 
wiih    those  whose    touch  was  pollution,   and 


■MjPt;aij^,nfl"i ! "'  '^wini.  %».m^^f 


86 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


under  the  influence  of  such  associates  they 
have  gone  down  a  steep  road  to  ruin,  while 
desolated  homes  and  broken  hearts  witness  to 
the  far-reaching  malign  influence  of  evil  com- 
panionship. Few  who  are  now  sunk  in  wretch- 
edness and  social  ruin  would  have  gone  to  ruin 
alone ;  but  the  strong  attraction  of  companions 
whose  unscrupulousness  was  disguised  under  the 
form  of  friendship  has  drawn  the  simple  out  of 
the  path  of  purity,  and  given  that  impetus  toward 
vice  which  pushes  the  fallen  rapidly  down  to 
death. 

You  to  whom  I  speak  may  be,  or  may  think 
yourselves  to  be,  safe,  but  remember,  however 
firm  your  resolution  to  be  honest  and  pure,  if 
you  associate  habitually  with  those  who  are 
bad,  you  subject  yourselves  to  a  dangerous  test. 
By  your  choice  the  bad  are  in  the  majority,  and 
they  will  at  last  make  you  like  themselves. 

But  if  evil  companionship  is  powerful  for  evil, 
good  companionship  is  equally  powerful  for 
good.  Many  a  boy  unhappily  born  amid 
vicious  surroundings  has  been  redeemed  from 
vice  by  being  placed  among  the  pure.  Under 
the  constant  influence  of  gentleness  and  purity 
and  integrity  his  character  gradually  has  ac- 
quired these  qualities,  and  his  life  has  developed 
into  an  ornament  and  a  blessing  to  society. 


A 


Companionship. 


87 


Even  men  of  confirmed  evil  habits  have  been 
powerfully  affected,  and  sometimes   saved,  by 
the  example  and  influence  of  the  good.     It  is 
said  that  when  Lord  Peterborough  lodged  for 
a  time  with  the  holy  Finelon,  he  was  so   af- 
fected by  F^nelon's  piety  and  virtue  that  he 
exclaimed  at  parting:    "If  I    stay  here   any 
longer  I  shall  become  a  Christian  m  spite  of 
myself."    The  history  of  domestic  life,  were  it 
fully  written,  would  show  many  an  instance  of 
a  coarse-grained  and  immoral  husband  gradu- 
ally softened  and  refined  by  the  companionship 
of  a  pure  and  high-minded  wife  until  he  became 
an  honest,  kindly  gentleman.     It  is  true  Ten- 
nyson makes  the  disappointed  and  angry  lover 
exclaim,  as  he  half-vengefuUy  forecasts  the  fate 
of  his  lost  mistress  :— 

■•  A8  the  husband  is,  the  wife  is :  thou  art  mated  with  a  down. 
And  the  pos8ne«i  of  his  nature  wiU  have  weight  to  drag  thee 
down ; " 

but  the  reverse  is  quite  as  oflen  true,  — the  fine- 
ness  of  the  wife's  nature  having  the  force  to  sub- 
due and  chasten  the  grossness  of  the  husband  s 
nature.  Saadi,  the  great  Persian  poet,  thus 
beautifully  represents  the  influence  of  goodness. 
"  One  day,"  he  says,  "  as  I  was  in  the  bath,  a 
friend  put  into  my  hand  a  piece  of  scented  clay. 


88 


The  Aim  of  Life, 


I  took  it,  and  said  to  it,  '  Art  thou  musk  or 
avnbergris,  for  I  am  charmed  with  thy  perfume?' 
It  answered,  '  I  was  a  despicable  piece  of  clay ; 
but  I  was  some  time  in  the  company  of  the  rose, 
and  the  quality  of  my  sweet  companion  was 
communicated  to  me ;  otherwise  I  should  only 
be  a  bit  of  clay  as  I  appear  to  be.' "  He  who 
chooses  his  companions  among  the  good  and 
the  true  will  at  last  become  like  them,  for  every 
noble  impulse  and  aspiration  will  be  wakened 
in  his  heart,  and  he  will  discover  for  himself  at 
last  the  same  hidden  sources  of  moral  strength 
as  those  from  which  they  draw  the  beautifying 
virtue  of  their  lives. 

It  is  this  very  power  of  good  companionship 
which  makes  he  Church,  when  it  is  really  alive 
with  the  spirit  of  Christ,  so  safe  and  so  whole- 
some for  the  young.  It  furnishes  not  only 
stimulating  examples  of  fidelity  to  truth  and 
righteousness,  but  also  a  purer  and  more  loving 
fellowship  than  is  found  in  any  other  society  on 
earth.  The  Church  which  seeks  to  approxi- 
mate its  great  ideal  develops  a  force  promotive 
of  the  best  culture  of  heart  as  well  as  of  mind. 
It  strives  after,  and  measurably  secures,  a  large 
and  generous  manhood  and  womanhood.  Many 
a  man  owes  far  more  to  the  Church  than  he  has 
ever  appreciated.    Had  he  been  alone  in  the 


PpEeBtlBBaBB 


.■jjia^^H^ni 


"^-m-i'iM'^^'-*^:!!^-^:'};  ■ 


lusk  or 
rfume?' 
)f  clay; 
:he  rose, 
ion  was 
lid  only 
rie  who 
>od  and 
►r  every 
yrakened 
nself  at 
strength 
lutifying 

lionship 
lly  alive 

whole- 
3t  only 
jth  and 
;  loving 
ciety  on 
ipproxi- 
omotive 
if  mind, 
a  large 
.  Many 
I  he  has 

in  the 


Companionship. 


89 


world,  wanting  the  quickening  and  supporting 
influence  of  the  Church's  kindly  and  pure  fellow- 
ship, his  moral  purpose  would  have  been  over- 
borne by  the  forces  of  evil  about  him,  and 
temptation  would  have  swept  him  into  ruinous 
sin.  But,  surrounded  as  he  has  been  by  those 
who,  like  him,  are  striving  to  live  according  to 
the  mind  of  Christ,  he  has  found  his  'ittle 
strength  reinforced  again  and  again,  his  failing 
purpose  revived,  and  his  whole  moral  being 
hly  invigorated  by  the  common  ende,ivor 
.liter  the  higher  life.  The  united  forces  of  the 
sympathizing  many  have  fortified  his  weak 
faith,  and  he  has  stood  fast  until  virtue  has 
become  the  habit  of  his  fife.  The  firmest  ground 
of  security  in  an  upright  life  is  continual,  con- 
scious dependence  on  God ;  but  the  main 
channel  through  which  divine  grace  comes  to  us 
is  the  vital  sympathy  and  loving  fellowship  of 
good  men  and  women  who  are  bound  to  us  in 
the  ties  of  a  common  faith.  The  Church  is  not 
an  institution  so  much  as  it  is  a  fellowship  of 
those  who  love  God  and  their  brethren.  Many 
are  the  testimonies  that  have  come  to  me  from 
men  who  are  living  bravely  and  hopefully 
that  they  are  able  so  to  live  because,  in  their 
struggle  with  sin  and  sorrow,  they  find  continual 
encouragement  to  strive  against  temptation  and 


90 


The  Aim  of  Lift, 


endure  adversity,  and  continual  incentives  to  at- 
tempt the  good,  in  the  tonic  atmosphere  of  the 
Christian  Church. 

2.  If,  then,  the  influence  of  habitual  com- 
panions is  so  powerful  for  go'd  or  ill,  it  is 
vastly  important  that  we  choose  tli  -'  whid  »re 
good,  —  that  we  choose  the  best,  fiicve  i!>  a 
law  of  affinity  among  men. 

"  Like  will  to  like ;  each  creature  loves  hit  kind," 

gang  the  poet  Herrick.  Tn  the  old  Jewish  book, 
"  Ecclesiasticus,"  I  find  thuse  proverbs :  "  All 
flesh  consorteth  accordin[;  to  kind,  and  a  man 
will  cleave  to  his  like ;  "  "The  birds  will  resort 
unto  their  like ;  "  "  Cicada  is  dear  tc  cicada,  and 
ant  to  ant,  and  hawks  to  hawks, '  ifave  we  not 
in  the  last  two  the  original  of  the  old  English 
proverb :  "  Birds  of  a  feather  flock  together  "  ? 
At  any  rate  the  proverb  is  true.  The  bad  in 
heart  prefer  to  be  with  the  bad,  and  the  frivo- 
lous with  the  frivolous,  and  the  pure  with  the 
pure.  You  do  not  find  the  upright  man  will- 
ingly in  the  company  of  the  debauchee  and  the 
gambler,  except  for  the  purpose  of  discharging 
some  imperative  duty;  nor  do  you  find  the 
vicious  man  voluntarily  seeking  the  companion- 
ship of  the  virtuous  and  the  devout,  save  as  he 
may  have  in   view  some  personal  gain.    The 


res  to  ai- 
re of  the 


lal  corn- 
ill,  it  is 
vhici  are 

x\'C  is  a 

d," 

ish  book, 
s:  "Ail 
id  a  man 
rill  resort 
cada,  and 
^e  we  not 
i  English 
)gether"? 
le  bad  in 
the  frivo- 
with  the 
man  will- 
e  and  the 
ischarging 
I  find  the 
>mpanion- 
ave  as  he 
ain.    The 


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Companionship. 


91 


moment  the  vicious  man  sincerely  seeks  com- 
panionship with  the  good,  that  moment  he  has 
ceased  to  be  wholly  vicious. 

But  there  are  many  who  are  not  yet  bad, 
whose  impulses  are  on  the  whole   good,  and 
whose  desire  is  to  be  honest  and  virtuous.   They 
are  lacking,  however,  in  well-tempered  judgment 
and  solid  strength  of  character.     The  chief  peril 
of  these  is  that  of  forming  evil  companionships. 
They  do  not  naturally  seek  the  bad;  nor  do 
they  promptly  and  resolutely  attach  themselves 
to  the  good.     Inexperienced  and  thoughtless, 
they  yield  readily  to  the  first  impulse ;  pleasure 
is  attractive,  and  they  are  easily  beguiled  by 
those  who  make  vice  plausible.     There  is  a 
singular   fascination    in    freedom    from    moral 
restraint.    They  are  mastered  by  the  influence 
of  their  environment,  and  quickly  decline  from 
comparative  innocence  to  habitual  and  ever- 
deepening    immorality.       Scarcely    any    other 
choice  in  early  life  is  so  important  as  the  choice 
of  companions;    upon  that  choice  often  turns 
the  whole  question  of  success  or  failure  in  life. 

Consider,  then,  this  important  truth,  that 
you  have  it  in  your  power  unselfishly  to  draw 
to  yourself  the  best  service  of  your  fellow- 
creatures.  No  matter  what  your  circumstances 
are,  you  can  win  and  keep  the  company  of 


92  The  Aim  of  Life. 

those  who  are  intelligent  and  virtuous  as  well 
as  agreeable.     You  can  have  such  companion- 
ship as  shall  help  you  to  be  true  and  clean  and 
worthy  men  and  women.     I   know  how  great 
obstacles  poverty  raises,  or  seems  to  raise,  in 
the  way  of  many  who  would  seek   elevating 
companionship ;  but  I  am  not  sure  that  wealth 
often  does  not  raise  still  greater  obstacles.     I 
am  not  sure  but  that  the  poor  young  man  or 
woman  has  less  to  contend  with  in  this  respect 
than  the  rich.    Those  who  are  born  and  nur- 
tured in  wealth  are  more  subject  to  the  conven- 
tional exactions  of  society,  which  often  make  the 
free  choice  of  companions  difficult.     But  many 
of  the  obstacles  to  a  choice  of  the  best  compan- 
ionship are  imaginary,  and  none  of  them  are 
insurmountable.      Some  of  your  associates  in 
study  or  work  may  be  coarse  or  profane  or 
dissipated ;  but  there  is  no  law,  social  or  moral, 
that  compels  you  to  choose  your  friends  and 
companions   from    among   them.      The    good 
always  welcome  those  who  seek  to  attain  good- 
ness.   No  associations  which  you  do  not  desire 
can  be  forced  on  you;  and  none  which  you 
unselfishly  seek  will  be  denied  you.    As  it  is 
your  duty  to  be  master  of  your  circumstances, 
so  it  is  your  duty  to  determine  your  companion- 
ships.   This  'often  requires  courage,  sometimes 


I 


Companionship. 


93 


iious  as  well 
companion- 
id  clean  and 
iv  how  great 
to  raise,  in 
ek   elevating 
I  that  wealth 
}bstacles.     I 
oung  man  or 
,  this  respect 
orn  and  nur- 
>  the  conven- 
rten  make  the 
But  many 
best  compan- 
of  them  are 
associates  in 
r  profane  or 
cial  or  moral, 
r  friends  and 
The    good 
attain  good- 
do  not  desire 
e  which  you 
ou.    As  it  is 
ircumstances, 
ir  companion- 
ge,  sometimes 


a  very  fine-tempered  courage.    You  must  dare 
sometimes  to  be  singular;  you  must  not  fear 
to  give  oflfence,  if  offence  is  taken  at  your  exer- 
cise  of  the   personal   right  of  selecting   your 
habitual  associates.    You  must  be  brave  enough 
to  stand  against  a  majority,  if  need   be,  and 
"  to  refuse  to  follow  the  multittide  to  do  evil." 
Especially  is  courage  needed  if  once  you  have 
been  led  astray,  and  still  bear  the  scars,  if  not 
the  unhealed  wounds,  of  your  fall.     A  man  who 
had  renounced  the  use  of  intoxicants,  after  hav- 
ing used  them  to  excess,  was  asked  by  some  of 
his  old  comrades  to  drink  with  them;  but  he 
refused.    They  urged  him ;  but  he  was  firm,  say- 
ing, "  I  am  a  brand  plucked  from  the  burning." 
They  asked  what  he  meant,  at  the  same  time 
saying  that  one  drink  would  do  him  no  harm ; 
the  man  replied:  "Look  here!  you  know  there 
is  a  difference  between  a  brand  and  a  green 
stick.    If  a  spark  fall  on  a  brand  that  has  been 
partly  burned,  it  will  soon  catch  fire  again ;  not 
so  with  a  green  stick.     I  tell  you  I  am  that 
brand  plucked  out  of  the  fire ;  and  I  dare  not 
venture  into  the  way  of  temptation  for  fear  of 
being  set  on  fire  again."     In  relation  to  this  or 
that  indulgence  already  you  may  be  a  brand. 
Take  care  that  through  your  very  friendships 
the  spark  may  not  fall  on  you  which  will  re- 


94 


The  Aim  of  Life, 


kindle  the  baleful   fire.      If  you   are  still  so 
young,  or  have  been  so  shielded  by  the  influ- 
ences of  a  pure  home,  that  you  are  the  "  green 
stick,"  remember  that  it  does  not  take  long  to 
become  a  brand.     "  Keep  thy  heart  with  all 
diligence,  for  out  of  it  are  the  issues  of  life." 
The  accident  of  a  day  may  begin  a  friendship 
that  will  last  for  years.     Associates  are  easily 
found  if  one  is  indifferent  to  their  character; 
others  will  seek  you,  if  you  do  not  seek  them. 
You  will  not  lack  friends,  such  as  they  are,  if  you 
are  accessible  to  those  who  would  gain  some- 
thing from  you ;  but  you  must  be  positive,  choos- 
ing for  yourself  fit  companions  with  whom  you 
may  form  a  compact  of  mutual  helpfulness  and 
pleasure.     Choose  your  associates  primarily  for 
their  intrinsic  moral  qualities.     Many  people  run 
after  the  rich ;  others  cultivate  the  clever  man 
because  he  is  clever.    There  are  others  who  find 
the  chief  attraction  in  mere  physical  strength ; 
every    pugilist    has   his    coterie    of   admirers. 
Some  people  seem  to  measure  the  worth  of  a 
man  solely  by  his  physical  qualities.     Spence,  in 
his  "  Anecdotes,"  relates  that  Pope  the  poet  was 
with  Sir  Godfrey  Kneller  the  artist,  one  day, 
when  the  latter's  nephew,  a  Guinea  slave-trader, 
came  into  the  room.    "  Nephew,"  said  Sir  God- 
frey, "  you  have  the  honor  of  seeing  the  two 


re  still  so 

the  influ- 

he  "  green 

ce  long  to 

irt  with  all 

es  of  life." 

I  friendship 

are  easily 

character ; 

seek  them. 

T  are,  if  you 

gain  some- 

itive,  choos- 

1  whom  you 

fulness  and 

rimarily  for 

'  people  run 

clever  man 

;rs  who  find 

il  strength; 

r   admirers. 

worth  of  a 

Spence,  In 

ie  poet  was 

;,  one  day, 

lave- trader, 

id  Sir  God- 

ig  the  two 


Companionship, 


95 


greatest  men  in  the  world."  "  I  don't  know 
how  great  men  you  may  be,"  said  the  Guinea 
man ;  "  but  I  don't  like  your  looks.  I  have  often 
bought  a  man  much  better  than  both  of  you,  all 
muscles  and  bones,  (or  ten  guineas."  Bestial 
men  select  their  companions  tor  their  bestial 
qualities.  If  you  choose  companions  that  are 
bestial  they  will  soon  put  the  mark  of  the  beast 
on  you.  If  you  have  some  sentimental  notion 
that  you  will  do  them  good  by  remaining  on 
terms  of  intimacy  with  them,  put  the  fond  dream 
out  of  your  head  ;  you  will  far  more  likely  do 
them  good  by  abandoning  them.  They  will 
have,  for  once  at  least,  the  suggestive  example 
of  a  man  who  has  moral  convictions  and  the 
manliness  to  act  in  accordance  with  them.  If 
you  have  companions  that  can  speak  lightly  of 
woman,  or  sneer  at  a  mother's  counsel,  or  scoflf 
at  religion,  leave  them.  Whatever  qualities 
they  may  possess  which  excite  your  admira- 
tion,—  wit,  accomplishments,  prodigality  mis- 
called generosity,  —  they  certainly  will  do  you 
only  harm. 

There  are  intellectual  as  well  as  moral  advan- 
tages in  having  the  best  associates.  If  you 
habitually  talk  with  a  man  of  cultivated  tastes 
and  speech,  you  will  insensibly  take  on  his 
quality.    To  knovi  some  men  and  women  inti- 


WMiillilllBlUBg 


The  Aim  of  Life. 

mately  is  equivalent  to    a    liberal    education. 
Choose  associates  that  will  elevate  you.     It  is 
a  capital  rule  for  a  young  man  to  follow,  to 
cultivate  the  acquaintance   of  some   men   and 
women  who  are  distinctly  his  superiors  in  intelli- 
gence and  refinement    If  you  are  sincere  and 
modest,  no  good  man  whose  influence  you  desire 
to  receive  will  repel  you.    If  you  would  get 
knowledge,  talk  much  with  those  who   know 
more  than   you   do;    if  you    would    improve 
your  taste,  seek  intercourse  with  those  whose 
taste  is  refined  by  the  best  culture.      If  you 
would  be  established  in  virtue,  associate  habit- 
ually with  the  virtuous;    if  you  would   be  a 
Christian,  keep  the  company  of  some  Christian 
who,  like  F^nelon,  wins  all  by  the  pure  charm 
of  his  genuine  piety.      This  is   almost  always 
in  your  power ;  and  if  it  were  not,  you  would 
better  have  no  companions  than  those  whose 
influence  lowers  the  tone  of  your  moral  life. 
If  you  are  so   exceptionally  placed   that  you 
can  find   no  good   people  to   hold  fellowship 
with,  then  in  the  name  of  God  stand  alone  with 
Him;  but  no  sincere  soul  is  long  left  com- 
panionless  in  this  world.    As  Confucius  said: 
"  Virtue  is  not  left  to  stand  alone.      He  who 
practises  it  will  have  neighbors." 
We  need  occasionally  to   remind  ourselves 


ducation. 
.    It  is 

follour,  to 

men  and 

in  intelli- 

ncere  and 

you  desire 

would   get 

vho   know 

improve 

}se  whose 

If  you 

iate  habit- 

[>uld   be  a 

Christian 
ure  charm 
Dst  always 
you  would 
ose  whose 
moral  life. 

that  you 

fellowship 

alone  with 

left  com- 

icius  said: 

He  who 

ourselves 


Companionship. 


97 


that  we  are  responsible  for  our  companionships. 
As  we  have  power  and  opportunity  to  choose 
the  good,  so  we  are  to  blame  if  we  choose  and 
keep  the  bad.  There  are  many  who,  if  they 
are  unsuccessful,  find  fault  with  circumstances ; 
if  they  are  overcome  by  temptation,  they  blame 
their  evil  associates.  But  no  man  can  clear 
himself  of  guilt  by  shirking  his  personal  re- 
sponsibility for  what  he  does  and  what  he  is. 
The  streak  of  cowardice  in  Adam  which  made 
him  say :  "  The  woman  whom  Thou  gavest  me 
tempted  me,"  has  come  down  to  many  of  his 
descendants.  But  this  plea,  if  given  as  a  suffi- 
cient excuse  for  sin,  is  a  pitiful  evasion  of  the 
truth.  Tempter  or  •  temptress  will  be  unerr- 
ingly judged,  but  meanwhile  the  tempted  has 
his  account  to  give.  There  is  an  old  legend 
that  a  fool  and  a  wise  man  were  journeying  to- 
gether. They  came  to  a  point  where  two  ways 
opened  before  them,  —  one  broad  and  beautiful, 
the  other  narrow  and  rough.  The  fool  desired 
to  take  the  pleasant  way;  the  wise  man  knew 
that  the  hard  way  was  the  shortest  and  safest, 
and  so  declared.  But  at  last  the  urgency  of 
the  fool  prevailed;  they  took  the  more  in- 
viting path,  and  ere  long  were  met  by  robbers 
who  seized  their  goods  and  made  them  captives. 
Soon  after  both  they  and  their  captors  were 

7 


isassssa 


"•si^^sSitoaBa 


.,,i..',jWl'! 


98 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


arrested  by  officers  of  the  law  and  taken  before 
the  judge.  Then  the  wise  man  pleaded  that  the 
fool  was  to  blame  because  he  desired  to  take 
the  wrong  way.  The  fool  pleaded  that  he  was 
only  a  fool  and  no  sensible  man  should  have 
heeded  his  counsel.  The  judge  decided  that 
both  were  wrong  and  punished  them  equally. 
The  moral  of  the  legend  is  clear :  "  If  sinners 
entice  thee,  consent  thou  not."  Be  sure  that 
if  you  consent  to  the  enticement  of  sinners 
the  Supreme  Judge  will  not  hold  you  guiltless. 
Your  responsibility  is  as  broad  as  your  whole 
voluntary  life.  It  covers  not  only  acts  but  also 
motives;  not  only  your  individual  course  but 
also  the  nature  and  results  of  your  chosen  re- 
lationships. With  this  the  practical  judgment 
of  men  agrees.  Society  will  hold  you  responsi- 
ble for  the  company  that  you  keep,  and  those 
who  would  employ  you  will  be  profoundly  in- 
fluenced in  the  choice  or  refusal  of  your  services 
by  the  character  of  your  associates ;  when  Hal 
becomes  King  Henry,  he  must  cut  Falstaff  and 
his  regiment  of  swashbucklers.  It  is  said  that 
Pythagoras,  the  ancient  Greek  philosopher, 
before  he  admitted  any  one  into  his  school, 
inquired  who  were  his  intimates,  naturally  con- 
cluding that  they  who  could  choose  immoral 
companions  would  not  be  much  profited  by  his 


mmm 


Companionship. 


99 


n  before 
that  the 
to  take 
t  he  was 
uld  have 
ded   that 
equally, 
[f  sinners 
iure  that 
f  sinners 
guiltless, 
lur  whole 
t  but  also 
3urse  but 
hosen  re- 
judgment 
responsi- 
and  those 
>undly  in- 
ir  services 
when  Hal 
ilstaff  and 
said  that 
tilosopher, 
tis  school, 
irally  con- 
;   immoral 
ted  by  his 


Instructions.  Men  are  not  less  wise  now;  if 
you  keep  the  company  of  the  dissipated  or  the 
corrupt,  do  not  be  surprised  if  those  who  want 
capable  and  honest  assistants  pass  you  by.  The 
common-sense  of  the  world  appreciates  the  worth 
of  integrity,  and  quickly  presumes  the  lack  of 
integrity  in  those  who  have  intimacies  with  the 
unworthy. 

We  have  no  right  to  be  exclusive  in  the  sense 
that  we  should  repel  any  human  being  who  seeks 
aid  of  us  or  to  whom  we  can  do  good ;  but  we 
have  the  right  to  keep  our  intimacies  only  for 
those  whom  we  can  trust  and  whose  influence 
upon  us  will  be  pure  and  conservative  of  honor. 
We  have  the  right,  nay,  we  are  under  most 
solemn  obligation,  to  preserve  inviolate  the  in- 
most sanctuary  of  the  heart  and  mind  by  admit- 
ting therein  no  profane  and  polluting  fellowship. 
This  does  not  abridge  in  the  least  a  true  love  of 
all  our  fellow-men.  God  loves  all.  "  He  maketh 
His  sun  to  rise  on  the  evil  and  the  good,  and 
sendeth  rain  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust;"  but 
also,  "  The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that 
fear  Him,  and  He  will  show  them  His  covenant." 

Our  habitual  companionships  will  be  deter- 
mined by  our  dominant  aim  in  life  and  by  the 
really  master-affection  of  our  hearts.  That 
strange  conception  of  Stevenson's,  "  Mr.  Hyde 


ICX) 


Thi  Aim  of  Life. 


<ii 


and  Dr.  Jekyll,"  has  in  it  an  element  of  startling 
truth.  Our  natures  are  capable  of  an  appalling 
moral  duality  ;  yet  the  conception  of  the  novel- 
ist is  exaggerated,  and  so  far  false.  Every  man 
is  fundamentally  one  thing  or  another ;  but 
there  is  always  this  play  of  action  and  reaction : 
what  he  is  determines  the  character  of  his  com- 
panionships; the  character  of  his  companion- 
ships  determines  what  he  is.  No  man  can  go 
far  and  fatally  wrong  who  has  chosen  the 
supreme  good  as  the  goal  of  his  life;  no  one 
can  form  permanent  evil  fellowships  who  has 
learned  what  it  is  to  have  fellowship  with  the 
divine  man,  Jesus  Christ  His  pure  presence 
in  the  heart  is  the  perfect  moral  antiseptic ; 
that  will  make  evil  companionships  impossible 
for  you,  as  it  also  will  make  you  worthy  of  the 
love  and  confidence  of  all  men.  Intimate  com- 
panionship with  him  will  enable  you  to  give,  as 
it  will  qualify  you  to  receive,  the  best  thing  on 
earth,  —  an  enduring,  pure,  and  wholly  benef- 
icent friendship. 


startling 
appalling 
he  hovel- 
very  man 
her ;    but 
reaction : 
■  his  com- 
)mpanion- 
in  can  go 
losen    the 
:;  no  one 

who  has 
>  with  the 
•   presence 
antiseptic ; 
impossible 
thy  of  the 
imate  com- 
to  give,  as 
5t  thing  on 
oily  benef- 


TEMPERANCE. 

A  WISE  man  U  itrong;  yea,  a  man  of  knowledge  increaaeth 
■trength.  —  Provtrbs  of  Solomon, 

Whatever  day 

Makes  man  a  slave,  take*  half  his  worth  away. 

The  Odyssiy, 

He  that  would  govern  others,  first  should  be 

The  master  of  himself. 

Massinger. 

Every  man  that  striveth  for  the  mastery  Is  tumperate  In  all 
things.— Saint  Paul. 

In  the  supremacy  of  self.-control  consists  one  of  the  perfec- 
tions of  the  Ideal  man.  —  Herbert  Spencer. 

Chain  up  the  unruly  legion  of  thy  breast.  Lead  thine  own 
captivity  captive,  and  be  Cxsar  within  thyself.  — SIR  Thomas 
Browne. 

Es  ist  gewlss,  eln  ungemilssigt  Leben, 
Wle  es  uns  schwere,  wllde  Traume  glebt, 
Macht  uns  luletit  am  hellen  Tage  traumen. 

GOETHB. 

THE  Study  of  words  is  both  interesting  and 
profitable;  for  words  are  more  than 
symbols  of  thoughts,  they  are  thoughts  em- 
bodied, and  the  history  of  words  is  the  history 
of  the  intellectual  and  moral  life  of  man. 

The  word  "  temperance  "  is  so  comirjonly  mis- 
understood and  misapplied  that  a  brief  study  of 


■-— »«(ipgi>s«jf.*d«iK*»  -" 


■mSH)KSB& 


jJMIilJ^HWWilWMiB 


102  The  Aim  of  Life. 

it,  if  it  doefr  not  materially  add  to  our  knowledge, 
will  at  least  correct  our  apprehension  and  per- 
haps also  our  use  of  the  word.  It  is  from  the 
\ja!Cm  tempero,  which  means,  (i)  "to  divide  or 
proportion  duly,"  and  "  to  mix  in  due  propor- 
tion." This  sense  appears  in  the  phrase :  "  He 
is  a  well-tempered  man."  Had  Shakespeare 
written  in  Latin  instead  of  English,  he  would 
have  used  tempero  in  that  noble  passage  which 
he  puts  in  the  mouth  of  Mark  Antony  concerning 
Brutus : — 

"  His  life  was  gentle,  and  the  elements 
So  mix'ti  in  him  that  Nature  might  stand  up 
And  say  to  all  the  world, '  This  was  a  man  I ' " 

7m/«'^  means,  (2)"  to  rule,  regulate,  govern;  " 

(3)  "  to  moderate  or  restrain  one's  self;  "  and, 

(4)  in  the  participle,  to  be  "  moderate,  sober, 
calm,  steady."  The  New  Testament  is  so 
largely  the  recognized  authority  in  practical 
ethics  that  we  shall  do  well  to  look  at  its  use  of 
the  word.  "Temperance  "  is  the  common  trans- 
lation of  the  Greek  iyKpdreia,  a  compound  of 
^iz  —  that  is,  "in"— and  xparo^,  which  means 
power.  Applied  to  a  man.  iyxpaTeia  expresses 
the  idea  of  strength  or  power  in  him ;  it  expresses 
thus  the  idea  of  moral  strength,  —  that  is,  self- 
mastery  or  self-control. 


knowledge, 
n  and  per- 
is from  the 
3  divide  or 
ue  propor- 
irase:  "He 
Jhakespeare 
\,  he  would 
ssage  which 
concerning 


s 

stand  up 
a  man  I  "• 


e,  govern ; 

self;  "  and, 

:rate,  sober, 

tnent    is    so 

in    practical 

at  its  use  of 

mmon  trans- 

ompound  of 

vhich  means 

la  expresses 

it  expresses 

that  is,  self- 


Temperance. 

In  the  minds  of  most  people  this  word  is 
associated  almost  exclusively  with  the  idea  of 
abstinence  from  the  use  of  intoxicating  liquors. 
A  temperate  man  is  usually  understood  to  be 
one  who  never  tastes   intoxicants  as  a  bever- 
age, no  matter  what  excesses  he  may  practise 
in  other  respects.     "Temperance,"   popularly, 
is  the  equivalent  of  total  abstinence  from  alco- 
hoi,  and  "intemperance"  is  the  equivalent  of 
any  degree  of  alcoholic  indulgence.    Thus  the 
truth  that  all  excess  is  intemperance  is  blurred 
and  even  lost  sight  of  altogether.    The  mon- 
strous evils  resulting  from  alcoholic  intemper- 
ance aflford  both  the  reason  and  an  excuse  for 
this  perversion  of  the  word ;    but  we  shall  lose 
nothing  and  shall  gain  much  by  restoring  to  the 
word  its  true  meaning.    Any  man  who  makes 
excessive  use   of   intoxicants  is    intemperate, 
whether  the  quantity  he  uses  be  small  or  great. 
Excess  is  determined  not  by  quantity  alone,  but 
by  the  degree  of  the  user's  sensitiveness  to  stim- 
ulants.   The  responsible  relations  in  which  he 
stands  both  to  God  and  to  human  society  de- 
mand the  continuous  preservation  of  his  moral 
and  physical  self-possession,  and  any  use  of  intox- 
icants which  prevents  that  is  excessive.    On  the 
other  hand  temperance  is  not  to  be  identified 
with  moderate  use,— that  is,  a  man  is  not  bound 


■'JlA'Vi  .  -■.-:I.,U^: '■  ■..■l.,.W.A<18l 


I04  ^^  ^^*'*  °f  ^^f^' 

to  use  alcohol  moderately  in  order  to  be  temper- 
ate.   Temperance  is  self-control,  and    he  who 
abstains  wholly  from  intoxicating  drinks  is,  in 
this  particular  matter,  a  temperate  man ;  while 
he  who  takes  only  an  occasional  glass  may  be,  so 
far,  an  intemperate  man.     Any  indulgence  is  in- 
temperance in  the  case  of  some  men ;  it  is  intem- 
perance in  the  case  of  any  man  who  thereby  pre- 
judices his  physical  or  moral  health,  or  menaces 
the  well-being  of  his  neighbor.    Certainly  the  man 
who  by  the  excessive  use  of  alcohol  has  laid  the 
foundation  of  a  morbid  appetite,  or  has  inher- 
ited a  morbid   susceptibility  to  stimulants,  is 
intemperate  if  he  makes  any  use  as  a  beverage 
of  that  which  will  revive  his  appetite.    Entire 
abstinence  is  the  only  safe,  and  therefore  the 
only  right,  course  for  some  men,  and  the  only 
surety  of  self-control. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  evil  nature 
of  an  act  lies  not  only  in  the  motive  of  the 
doer,  but  also  in  the  consequences  of  the  act. 
This  fundamental  ethical  principle  is  often 
ignored  in  discussions  of  the  temperance  ques- 
tion. Experience  shows  that,  quicker  than 
almost  any  other  physical  agent,  alcohol  breaks 
down  a  man's  power  of  self-control.  The  phys- 
ical evils  of  intemperance,  great  as  they  are,  are 
slight  compared  with  the  moral  evils.     It  is  not 


e  temper- 
he  who 
(iks  is,  in 
an ;  while 
lay  be,  so 
ence  is  in- 
t  is  intem- 
greby  pre- 
r  menaces 
y  the  man 
IS  laid  the 
las  inher- 
lulants,  is 
beverage 
e.  Entire 
refore  the 
i  the  only 

;vil  nature 
ye  of  the 
>f  the  act. 

is  often 
mce  ques- 
cker  than 
hoi  breaks 
The  phys- 
ley  are,  are 

It  is  not 


Temperance. 


»05 


simply  that  vices  and  crimes  almost  inevitably 
follow  on  the  loss  of  rational  self-direction,  which 
is  the  invariable  accompaniment  of  intoxication ; 
manhood  is  lowered   and  finally  lost  by  the 
sensual  tyranny  of  appetite.    The  drunken  man 
has  given  up  the  reins  of  his  nature  to  a  fool  or 
a  fiend,  and  he  is  driven  fast  to  base  or  unutter- 
terably  foolish  ends.    The  temperate  man  keeps 
the  reins  in  his  own  hands,  and  resists  the  first 
encroachment  on  his  rational  and  moral  liberty. 
He  will  not  become  a  traitor  to  the  high  sover- 
eignty of  his  own  divinely  given  self-hood. 

But  the  idea  of  temperance  covers  a  wide 
field;    it  stands  in  direct  relation   to  many 
forms  of  self-indulgence  besides  that  of  in- 
dulgence in   stimulants.     In  fact  temperance 
relates  not  primarily  to  the  thing  which  a  man 
does,  but  to  the  man ;  it  is  opposed  to  excess 
of  every  sort,  —  to  excess  in  eating  and  drink- 
ing,   in   working   and    playing,    in    speaking 
and  thinking.  Temperance  is  sometimes  con- 
founded with  moderation;  but  moderation  is 
rather  the  result  of  temperance,  —  that  is,  of 
self-control.     As  belonging  primarily  to  the 
man  rather  than  to  the  thing  which  a  man 
does,  temperance  is  a  quality  of  character.     In 
its  highest  form  it  belongs  only  to  the  good 
man;    no  one  can  be  temperate  in  sinning. 


>;i^i*Bfe«i«ttri«i«i«is«^^ 


io6 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


One  may  sin  less  than  another,  but  all  sin  is 
excess;  he  who  sins  exceeds  the  limits  of  right 
conduct.  Temperance  is  not  perfect  until  it 
is  so  complete  that  it  prevents  all  wrong  action 
or  impulse. 

Temperance,   then,    is    self-control.      It    is 
physical  and  mental  and  moral  self-possession 
and    self-direction;    it    is  that    quality,    that 
power,  in  a  man    by  which  he  successfully 
resists  the  mastering  of  himself  by  any  thing 
or  any  influence  which  is  of  less  worth  than 
himself,  —an  intelligent,  moral  personality,  at 
once  the  subject  and  the  child  of  God.     It  is 
immediately  related  to  all  the  virtues.     Bishop 
Hall,  using  the  word  "  moderation"  in  the  sense 
of  self-control,  said :  "  Moderation  is  the  silken 
string  running  through  the  pearl  chain  of  all 
virtues."    It  makes  character  symmetrical,  and 
conduct  consistent  with  right  principle;  it  is 
the  unifying  force,   the  internal    ruler,   that 
regulates    the  activities  of    imagination    and 
affection  and  will.     It  is   intimately  related 
with  knowledge.    Socrates  said :  "There  is  no 
difference  between  knowledge  and  temperance 
[e7«/i)aT«ta],  for  he  who  knows  what  is  good  and 
embraces  it,  who  knows  what  is  bad  and  avoids 
it,  is  learned  and  temperate.     But  they  who 
know  very  well  what  ought  to  be  done,  and  yet 


t  all  sin  is 
lits  of  right 
:ct  until  it 
rong  action 

rol.  It  is 
f-possession 
uality,  that 
successfully 
ly  any  thing 
worth  than 
rsonality,  at 
God.  It  is 
les.  Bishop 
in  the  sense 
is  the  silken 
chain  of  all 
metrical,  and 
nciple;  it  is 

ruler,  that 
ination  and 
itely  related 
There  is  no 

temperance 
t  is  good  and 
id  and  avoids 
iut  they  who 
lone,  and  yet 


Temperance. 


107 


do  otherwise,  are  ignorant  and  stupid."    The 
brilliant  but  sadly  inconsistent  Stoic  philoso- 
pher,  Seneca,  inculcated,  if  he  did  not  always 
practise,  a  true  temperance.     He  declared :  "  I 
will  have  a  care  of  being  a  slave  to  myself,  for 
it  is  a  perpetual,  a  shameful,  and  the  heaviest 
of  all  servitudes."     Saint  Paul,  contemporary 
with  Seneca,  inculcated  and  practised  a  tem- 
perance grounded  in  the  absolute  subjection  of 
self  to  God  and  to  the  spiritual  aims  of  life. 
In  his  letter  to  the  Corinthians,  he  reminded 
them  that  those  who  contended  in  the  games 
for  a  prize  were  temperate.     The  illustration 
was  homely,  but  striking  and  suggestive;  the 
wrestler  or  runner,  in  preparing  for  the  contest, 
must  bring  himself  wholly  into  subjection  to 
the  laws  of  physical  health  and  development. 
He  must  rigorously  control  all  his  habits  of 
living,  —  of  eating  and  drinking  and  sleeping, 
of  resting  and  exercising.    He  must  control  also 
his  passions  and  his  moods;  for  he  must  have 
not  only  physical  soundness  and  strength,  but 
also  presence  of  mind,  alertness,  courage,  and 
perseverance.    All  of  these  qualities  are  needed 
in  the  arena;   he  who  is  deficient  m  any  of 
them  risks  failure  and  defeat.     Human  life  is 
a  contest,  a  race,  an   agony  \&riiovU\  as  the 
Greeks  called  it,  and  it  demands  a  moral  disci- 


\ 


I 


io8 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


SYl 


pline  and  self-mastery  like  that  of  the  athlete. 
We  are  in  the  world  to  develop  character; 
and  we  are  surrounded  by  hostile  influences 
which  we  must  overcome  in  order  to  become 
true  men  and  women.  We  have  weaknesses 
within  which  must  be  supplanted  by  disci- 
plined strength.  We  have  physical  appe- 
tites which,  properly  ruled,  are  sources  of 
pleasure,  and  ministrant  to  our  well-being, 
but  which,  if  allowed  to  rule  us,  will  involve 
us  in  a  bondage  that  is  both  degrading  and 
destructive.  We  have  faculties  of  mind  and 
heart  which,  regulated  and  trained  in  accord- 
ance with  moral  law,  are  elements  of  both 
power  and  greatness,  but  ungoverned  are 
sources  and  instruments  of  mischief  to  our- 
selves and  others.  God  evidently  means  that 
we  shall  "live  in  the  spirit," — that  is,  with 
our  spiritual  faculties  regnant,  and  our  spiritual 
interests  uppermost.  It  is  His  will  that  we 
should  be  served  by  the  flesh,  and  not  be  its 
servants ;  that  every  faculty  and  passion  of  our 
natures  shall  be  under  the  control  of  a  right 
will,  and  so  ministrant  to  our  best  life.  In  its 
highest  sense  temperance  is  a  holy  self-govern- 
ment of  our  entire  nature  —  of  body,  mind,  and 
spirit  —  in  accordance  with  the  will  of  God. 
A    true    self-control    involves,    then:    (i) 


■fA 


the  athlete. 

character; 

influences 

to  become 

weaknesses 

;d   by  disci- 

yrsical    appe- ' 

sources  of 

well-being, 

will  involve 

:grading  and 

of  mind  and 

id  in  accord- 

ents  of  both 

joverned    are 

chief  to  our- 

ly  means  that 

•  that  is,  with 

i  our  spiritual 

will  that  we 

nd  not  be  its 

lassion  of  our 

rol  of  a  right 

;t  life.     In  its 

!y  self -govern - 

dy,  mind,  and 

rill  of  God. 

s,    then:    (i) 


Temperance. 


109 


Control  of  the  physical  appetites.  Such  con- 
trol is  absolutely  necessary  to  right  living.  I 
do  not  counsel  asceticism;  Christianity  does 
not  prescribe  asceticism,  —  on  the  contrary, 
asceticism  is  opposed  to  that  full,  rounded, 
vigorous  life  of  which  Christianity  gives  us 
the  ideal.  But  in  every  man  who  would  live 
as  he  ought  to  live,  there  must  be  something  of 
the  force  and  fibre  which  enter  into  the  charac- 
ter of  the  ascetic.  "  All  things  are  lawful  for 
me,"  said  Saint  Paul;  "but  I  will  not  be 
mastered  by  any. "  There  is  the  truly  temper- 
ate man,  in  whom,  by  long  discipline,  self-con- 
trol has  become  easy  and  inevitable.  On  every 
side  the  thoughtful  observer  of  life  discovers 
examples  of  the  ruin  that  is  wrought  by  lust,  — 
that  is,  by  appetite  which  has  become  exces- 
sive. Not  only  are  natural  appetites  given 
rein  until  they  have  grown  monstrous  and 
despotic,  but  artificial  appetites  are  created 
which,  like  a  ghastly  Frankenstein,  develop  a 
kind  of  independent  life  and  force,  and  then 
turn  on  their  creator  to  torment  him  without 
pity. 

The  appetite  for  intoxicants,  if  not  wholly 
artificial  in  some  cases,  is  yet  so  perverted 
and  exaggerated  that  it  has  all  the  char- 
acter of   an   unnatural  and   external  'despot 


WIUMilBHIWUP 


w 


"^Wlfe,,, 


no  The  Aim  of  Life, 

The  thoroughly  subjugated  victim  of  strong 
drink  is  almost  the  most  pitiable  creature  on 
earth;  he  becomes  half  beast  or  half  demon. 
In  the  place  of  sweet,  human  reasonableness 
comes  a  maudlin  idiocy  or  a  maudlin  fury. 
What  a  mute  confession  of  unspeakable  degra- 
dation there  is  in  the  very  appearance  of  a 
confirmed  sot!  Behold  a  man  no  longer  in 
possession  of  himself  1  The  flesh  is  master; 
the  spiritual  nature  is  choked  in  the  mire  of 
sensuality;  and  the  mental  faculties  are  a  mere 
mob  of  enfeebled  powers  under  bondage  to  a 
bestial  or  mad  tyrant. 

Young  men,  let  drink  alone;  not  because  it 
is  a  sin  to  take  a  glass  of  wine,  but  because  it 
is  a  sin  and  a  shame  for  you  to  abdicate  your 
manhood  under  the  influence  of  a  morbid  appe- 
tite  which  you  must  either  create  by  immoral 
excess,  or  which,  having  been  created  by  pre- 
natal influences,  you  must  waken  and  nurse  by 
indulgence  before  it  has  the  fatal  power  to 
bind  you  hand  and  foot. 

But  there  are  other  appetites  which  are  just 
as  imperious  and,  perhaps,  quite  as  harmful  as 
the  appetite  for ,  intoxicants.  The  latter  seems 
specially  evil  because  of  the  rapidity  and  com- 
pleteness  with  which  it  breaks  down  self-con- 
trol and  debauches  the  moral  nature..    But  all 


I  of  strong 
creature  on 
ialf  demon, 
sonableness 
ludlin  fury, 
table  degra- 
arance  of  a 
)  longer  in 
1  is  master; 
the  mire  of 
s  are  a  mere 
ondage  to  a 

>t  because  it 
it  because  it 
bdicate  your 
norbid  appe- 
by  immoral 
ated  by  pre- 
md  nurse  by 
:al  power  to 

hich  are  just 
IS  harmful  as 
;  latter  seems 
ity  and  com- 
)wn  self -con - 
ure. .    But  all 


Temperance. 

appetites,  the  natural  as  well  as  the  artificial, 
which  exist  in  most  cases  only  by  our  fault, 
should  be  subject  to  reason  and  conscience  and 
will.     They  have  no  right  to  mastery.     Settle 
early  the  question  which  is  to  be  your  master, 
your  body  or  you.     It  is  no  such  easy  question 
to  settle  as  you  may  suppose;  for  the  very 
strength  of  your  nature,  on  the  passional  side, 
enhances  the  difficulty.    The  question  is  never 
effectually  and  finally    settled  until  you  are 
willingly  ruled    by  a  high,   moral    purpose; 
and  until  it  is  settled  you  have  no  self-control 
which  will  insure  any  real  and  permanent  suc- 
cess in   life.     Hate  not    the    body;    prize   it 
rather,  and  nourish  and  develop  it,  but  keep 
it  under.     Like  fire,  it  is  a  good  servant,  but  a 
ruinous  master. 

(2)  Self-control  involves  also  command  of 
one's  faculties  and  dispositions.  Skill  in  any 
work  is  the  result  of  a  full  self-possession;  it 
is  such  grasp  and  command  of  one's  powers  as 
enables  him  to  direct  them  efficiently  to  a 
desired  end.  It  is  his  physical  self-control 
that  enables  the  skilful  mechanic  to  make  his 
hands  and  his  tools  do  exactly  what  he  plans. 
The  same  tools  in  the  hands  of  one  lacking  such 
self-control  are  almost  useless  and  sometimes 
even  dangerous.     It  is  physical  self-control 


112  The  Aim  of  Lif^: 

that  enables  the  accomplished  musician  to 
execute  with  precision  and  power  the  melody 
which  is  in  his  soul.  Technical  skill  of  every 
sort  is  the  result  and  expression  of  control 
over    one's  own  physical  capabilities. 

Self-control  is,  therefore,  necessary  to  eflfec- 
tiveness;    it  is  the  generalship  which  turns  a 
mob  of  raw  recruits  into  a  disciplined  army. 
Many  a  man  is  blundering  and  ineffective  in 
all  his  endeavors  because  he  has  never  come 
into  command  of  himself:   his  powers  are  un- 
trained;  he   can  do  nothing  well;    he  has  no 
method;  he  does  not  possess  himself.    The  dis- 
cipline which  is  the  main  end  in  education  is 
simply  self-control  acquired  over  ones  mental 
faculties;    without  this  discipline   no  man  is  a 
strong  and  accurate  thinker. 

But  dispositions  as  weir  as  faculties  must  be 
subdued  to  order.    A  prime  quality  of  good 
character  is  the  power  to  control  ones  moods, 
-his  feelings  and  temper.    Many  persons  are 
intemperate  in  their    feelings;    they  are  emo- 
tionally  prodigal.    Passionateness  is  intemper- 
ance; so  also  is  caprice,  and  subjection  to  evil 
or  unwholesome  moods.    There  is  an  mtejnper- 
ance  in  melancholy  and  in  mirth.    "The  laugh- 
ter of  fools  is  like  the  crackling  of  thorns  under 
a  pot "     But  the  mirthful  fool  is  not  worse  than 


Temperance. 


"3 


nusician  to 
the  melody 
ill  of  every 

of  control 
ties. 

ary  to  effec- 
iiich  turns  a 
•lined  army, 
neflfective  in 
never  come 
iwers  are  un- 
;  he  has  no 
elf.    Thedis- 

education  is 
one's  mental 
no  man  is  a 

ilties'  must  be 
ality  of  good 

one's  moods, 
y  persons  are 
hey  are  emo- 
i  is  intemper- 
jection  to  evil 
5  an  intemper- 

"The  laugh- 
>f  thorns  under 
not  worse  than 


the  melancholy  fool.     It  is  true  that  our  moods 
are  much  dflfected  by  our  circumstances;    that 
is   inevitable.     But  the  temperate  man   is  not 
mastered  by  his  moods ;    he  will  not  be  driven 
or  enticed  into  excess;    his  steadfast  will  con- 
quers despondency,  and  is  not  unbalanced  by 
transient  exhilarations.      Temper  is  subjected 
to  reason  and  conscience.     How  many  people 
excuse    themselves   for  doing  wrong   or  fool- 
ish acts  by  the   plea  that  they  have   a  quick 
temper?    But  he  who  is  king  of  himself  rules 
his  temper,  turning  its  very  heat  and  passion 
into  energy  that  works  good  instead   of  evil. 
Stephen  Girard,  when  he  heard  of  a  clerk  who 
had  a  strong  temper,  would  readily  take  him 
into  his  employ.     Girard  believed  that  such  per- 
sons, properly  controlled,  —  that  is,  taught  self- 
control,  —  were  the  best  workers.    Temper  is  an 
element  of  strength  ;  wisely  regulated  it  spends 
itself  as  energy  in  work,  just  as  heat  in  an 
engine  is  transmuted  into  the  force   that  drives 
the  wheels  of  industry  and  commerce.     Crom- 
well, William  the  Silent,  Washington,  and  Wel- 
lington were  men  of  prodigious  temper;  but 
they  were  also    men    whose    self-control  was 
nearly  perfect.    The  favorite  emblem,  Mr.  Mot- 
ley tells  us,  by  which  the  friends  of  William  the 
Silent  expressed  their  sense  of  his  firmness  was, 

8 


liilii>liiTi.IliriT7'1 


^rJJ'itiyiy^-pSpTIi^''^ 


sspwm^s 


114  TAi  Aim  of  Life. 

"  The  rock  in  the  ocean,  tranquil  amid  raging 
billows."  How  adequate  is  the  old  familiar 
proverb:  "  He  that  is  slow  to  anger  is  better 
than  the  mighty;  and  he  that  ruleth  his  spirit 
than  he  that  taketh  a  city." 

There  is    another   sort  of  intemperance  to 
which  the  young  are  prone  to  become  addicted: 
it  is  intemperance  in  the  exercise  of  the  fancy 
or  the  imagination.    Imagination  is  a  marvel- 
lous   and   most    precious    endowment    of  the 
human  mind  ;   but  it  is  susceptible  of  extra- 
ordinary  and   exceedingly  harmful  abuses.    It 
glorifies  life  if  it  is  pure  and  noble,  and  chas- 
tened by  a  strong  sense  of  truth  and  righteous- 
ness ;  if  it  is  impure,  and  unruled  by  conscience, 
it  envelopes   the  soul  in  a  splendid  but  fatal 
corruption.     Uncontrolled  by  reason   and  the 
moral  sense,  it  ^aps  the  best  energies  of  the 
mind    by    leaving  them   inactive;    it  perverts 
judgment  by  tb^se   representations  of  life;    it 
debauches  the  heart  by  the  creation  of  unclean 
pictures  in  which  vice  is  garnished  with  a  pow- 
erful and  baleful  beauty;  it  becomes,  m  the 
service  of  lust, — 

"  Procuress  to  the  lords  of  hell." 

Many  a  ruined  life  is  but  the  manifest  result 
of  a  moral   deterioration  which  began  in  an 


"MMEiri" 


Temperance. 


"5 


(lid  raging 
d  familiar 
r  is  better 
1  his  spirit 

;)erance  to 
:  addicted : 
the  fancy 
a  marvel- 
•nt    of  the 
•  of  extra- 
abuses.     It 
,  and  chas- 
l  righteous- 
conscience, 
d  but  fatal 
>n   and  the 
•gies  of  the 
it  perverts 
of  life;    it 
1  of  unclean 
with  a  pow- 
mes,  in  the 


inifest  result 
jegan  in  an 


1 


intemperate  imagination,  leeds  were  done  in 
fancy  from  which  as  facts  the  soul  would  have 
shrunk  in  horror,  uii  '  at  last,  by  an  inevi- 
table process,  fancy  has  become  fact  What 
orgies  of  illicit  pleasure  are  carried  on  in  many  a 
heart!  I  tell  you,  young  men,  there  are  few 
perils  to  youth  greater  than  those  which  arise 
from  an  unchastened  and  ungoverned  imagina- 
tion. A  true  self-control  lays  a  powerful  con- 
straining hand  on  that  fertile  and  dangerous 
faculty,  and  subjects  it  as  rigorously  as  it  does 
conduct  to  the  law  of  conscience.  "  Keep  the 
imagination  sane,"  said  Hawthorne,  "  that  is 
one  of  the  truest  conditions  of  communion  with 
Heaven."  When  G6ethe  wrote:  "  Es  ist 
nichts  furchterlicher  als  Einbildungskraft  ohne 
Geschmack,"  —  there  is  nothing  more  fearful 
than  imagination  without  taste,  —  he  surely  was 
thinking  of  "  that  good  taste  which  is  the  con- 
science of  the  mind,  and  that  conscience  which 
is  the  good  taste  of  the  soul." 

(3)  Self-control  involves  also  command  of 
one's  practical  activities.  Scarcely  less  impor- 
tant than  temperance  in  the  indulgence  of  our 
appetites  and  passions,  is  temperance  in  speech 
and  in  work.  These  two,  speech  and  work,  are 
our  prevailing  forms  of  expression ;  we  impress 
ourselves  on  the  world   about  us  by  what  we 


i 


■  I 


mssa^'-^'ii  !J-" 


Ii6 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


say  and  what  we  do.  Intemperance  in  speech 
is  a  common  vice,  and  it  is  one  prolific  of  grave 
evils.  Words  are  forces  in  human  society.  An 
apostle  said :  "  Be  swift  to  hear ;  slow  to  speak ; 
slow  to  wrath."  Hasty,  ill-considered  speech 
is  one  of  the  most  fruitful  sources  of  suffering; 
gossip  and  slander  are  more  powerful  for  mis- 
chief than  robbery  and  arson.  The  intemperate 
tongue  Saint  James  describes  as  "  an  unruly  evil, 
full  of  deadly  poison."  Families,  churches,  and 
communities  have  been  rent  in  pieces  by  the 
ungoverned  tongue;  friends  have  been  parted 
or  turned  into  foes  by  evil-speaking.  The  wise 
control  of  the  tongue  has  a  powerful  influence 
on  the  whole  life.  Saint  James  says :  "In  many 
things  we  all  offend.  If  any  one  offends  not  in 
word,  this  is  a  perfect  man,  able  to  bridle  also 
the  whole  body."  It  is  as  if  he  had  said  that 
he  who  has  learned  how  to  be  temperate  in 
speech  has  mastered  the  secret  of  temperance 
in  all  things.  The  man  who  is  intemperate  in 
drink  often  harms  himself  more  than  he  does 
any  one  else ;  but  the  man  who  is  intemperate 
in  speech  harms  first  and  most  his  fellow-man. 

Intemperance  in  work  is  also  a  common  vice, 
especially  in  our  time  and  country.  Though 
not  as  despicable  and  mischievous  a  vice  as  the 
former,  it  is  nevertheless  a  vice,  and  it  works 


,ce  in  speech 
jlific  of  grave 
society.    An 
low  to  speak ; 
dered  speech 
,  of  suffering; 
erful  for  mis- 
le  intemperate 
an  unruly  evil, 
churches,  and 
pieces  by  the 
:  been  parted 
ng.     The  wise 
erful  influence 
ys :  "  In  many 
offends  not  in 
to  bridle  also 
had  said  that 
temperate  in 
of  temperance 
intemperate  in 
than  he  does 
is  intemperate 
is  fellow-man. 
a  common  vice, 
jntry.    Though 
us  a  vice  as  the 
2,  and  it  works 


Temperance. 


117 


great  harm.     Many  men  do  not  control  their 
work ;  they  are  controlled  by  it.     Such  men  do 
not  live;   they  drudge   in  a  wearing  bondage. 
Work,  work,  work,  is  the  sum-total  of  their  lives. 
They  rob  their  families  of  that  generous,  affec- 
tional  intercourse  which  is  worth  more  than  any 
amount  of  wealth.    Their  day  has  no  breadth 
of  horizon,   and   is  void   of  beauty  and  song. 
They  do  much,  but  what  they  do  is  despoiled  of 
more  than  half  its  value  by  their  failure  to  be- 
come the  cultivated,  ample  personalties  that  they 
might   become.      Society  suffers,  the  Church 
suffers,  and  the  nation  suffers  by  the  sacrifice 
of  capacious  and  m?iny-sided  manhood  which 
intemperance  in  work  demands.     Work  is  not 
an  end,  but  a  means  to  an  end.    It  is  a  wretched 
subversion  of  true  human  interests  to  turn  life 
into  a  mere  grind  of  unillumined  toil.    Wealth, 
as   accumulated    money    is    miscalled,    is    not 
worth  its  cost  when  it  costs  life.     I  know  that 
the  preacher  on  this  theme  speaks  to  many  deaf 
ears.    The  gold-god  casts  a  powerful  spell  over 
his  devotees,  and  I  fear  that  the  day  is  still  d;.'- 
tant  when  men  will  work  that  they  may  live, 
instead  of  living  that  they  may  work.    But  the 
truth  has  a  more  powerful  advocate  than  the 
preacher's  voice ;  the  wrecking  of  many  a  life 
before  its  prime,  in  premature  break-down,  ner- 


■,^--'i'x'.-'Krt~~-^ 


ii8 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


r 


vous  prostration,  heart-failure,  and  suicide  speaks 
with  a  force  greater  than  that  of  any  sermon. 

Let  me  now  summarize  this  counsel  of  wis- 
dom as  to  the  practical  conduct  of  life.  Be  tem- 
perate in  your  pleasures ;  make  them  recreative 
incidents  in  the  serious  business  of  living.  Rule 
appetite  with  a  strong  hand,  and  persistently 
keep  the  body  in  its  true  place.  Be  temperate 
in  your  feeling ;  do  not  be  stoics ;  strong  feel- 
ing is  an  important  element  in  a  noble  charac- 
ter; but  rule  feeling  by  reason  and  conscience. 
Do  not  suppress  passion  and  imagination,  but 
let  them  loose  on  noble  ends. 

Be  temperate  in  judgment  and  speech.  Put 
a  bridle  on  the  tongue,  and  keep  the  reins  in  a 
firm  and  watchful  grasp.  Be  temperate  in  work. 
Let  the  thing  you  do  be  done  with  all  your 
might;  pour  out  your  enthusiasm  and  energy 
in  unstinted  streams,  but  always  under  such 
control  that  your  work  will  not  harness  and 
drive  you  as  a  mere  slave.  In  one  word,  be 
men,  self-controlled  and  patient  and  strong, — 
always  stronger  than  your  passions,  always 
better  than  your  speech,  always  superior  to 
your  task.  In  Sir  Thomas  Browne's  fine  phrase : 
"  Be  Caesar  within  thyself." 

Remember  that  all  conduct  begins  within. 
"  Out  of  the  heart  are  the  issues  of  life."    Out 


;ide  speaks 
sermon, 
sel  of  wis- 
;.    Be  tem- 
recreative 
ing.    Rule 
persistently 
;  temperate 
strong  feel- 
ble  charac- 
conscience. 
[nation,  but 

jeech.     Put 
le  reins  in  a 
ate  in  work, 
th  all  your 
and  energy 
under  such 
tiarness   and 
le  word,  be 
id  strong, — 
ons,    always 
superior  to 
fine  phrase : 

'gins  within, 
f  life."    Out 


Temperance. 


119 


of  the  heart  proceed  the  thoughts  and  motives 
which  are  the  mainspring  of  all  deeds.  If  the 
inner  kingdom  of  a  man's  heart  is  rightly  gov- 
erned, all  his  conduct  will  be  right  and  good. 

A  true  self-control  in  relation»to  things  evil 
enforces  abstinence;  in  relation  to  things  law- 
ful it  enforces  moderation.  Such  a  self-control 
produces  and  evinces  a  harmonious  and  bal- 
anced character;  it  insures  true  enjoyment  of 
pleasure,  efficiency  in  work,  patience  and  re- 
sourcefulness under  adversity,  and  chastened 
gladness  in  success. 

Such  is  the  temperance  inculcated  by  Jesus 
Christ.  If  you  have  attained  this  temperance 
you  will  never  be  the  slave  of  appetite ;  you  will 
be  free  from  the  loathsome  bonds  of  lust;  you 
will  command  with  ease  the  various  faculties  of 
your  minds.  Your  heart  will  escape  the  oppres- 
sion of  sombre  moods,  and  the  dissipation  of 
foolish  and  unwholesome  fancies,  and  you  will 
experience  the  calnu  and  sweet  satisfaction  ol 
conscious  integrity  before  God  and  men.  You 
will  feel  within  you,  as  Shakespeare  puts  it: 

"A  peace  above  all  earthly  dignitiea. 
A  still  and  quiet  conscience." 

For  truly,  as  Milton  said :  — 


fmm.%im0^- 


rvtSifSJUS'teWS*-^"'' 


I20  The  Aim  of  Life. 

JiHe  that  has  light  within  his  own  clear  breast, 
May  sit  i' the  centre,  and  enjoy  bright  day ; 
But  he  that  hides  a  dark  soul  and  foul  thoughts, 
Benighted  walks  under  the  mid-day  sun, 
Himself  is  his  own  dungeon." 

f 

How  shall  you  attain  such  self-control  as  I 
have  described?    The   answer   now    must    be 
brief,  and,  fortunately,   it  need   not  be  long. 
The  secret  of  true   self-control  is  in  a  right 
education  of  the  mind,  ip  discipline  of  the  will, 
and   in  development  of  the    spiritual    nature. 
Accept  intelligently,  and  never  reject  without 
well-meditated  and  well-grounded  reasons  the 
restraints  which  are  thrown  about  you  by  home 
and  society.     Many  a  young  man  is  impatient 
to  be  his  own  master;  the  authority  of  parent 
or  guardian  becomes  irksome,  and  he  longs  for 
the  hour  when  he  can  take  the  reins  of  his  life 
wholly  into  his  own  hands.    "  But  too  often,"  as 
Hare  has  said,  "  he  who  is  impatient  to  become 
his  own  master,  when  the  outward  checks  are 
removed,  only  becomes  his  own  slave, — the  slave 
of  a  master  in  the  insolent  flush  of  youth,  ha§ty, 
headstrong,  wayward,  and  tyrannical.     Had  he 
really  become  his  own  master,  the  first  act  of 
his  dominion  over  himself  would  have  been  to 
put  himself  under  the  dominion  of  a  higher 
Master  and  a  wiser."    It  is  only  he  who  has 


ast, 

9 

oughts, 


ntrol  as  I 
must    be 
be  long, 
n  a  right 
f  the  will, 
al    nature. 
:t  without 
;asons  the 
I  by  home 
impatient 
r  of  parent 
:  longs  for 
of  his  life 
3  often,"  as 
to  become 
checks  are 
— the  slave 
)uth,  ha§ty, 
1.     Had  he 
first  act  of 
,ve  been  to 
f  a  higher 
le  who  has 


Temperance. 


121 


learned    to    obey  who   is  fitted    and   able   to 
command. 

Discipline  your  wills  by  choosing  to  do  the 
difficult,  right  deed  with  promptness  and   un- 
flinching courage ;  form  the  habit  of  mastering 
yourselves  in  the  daily  experiences  of  the  home 
and  the  school.     Life  is  a  moral   gymnasium 
with  all  the  appliances  for  training  the  moral 
forces  in  you  to  strength  and  efficiency ;  spring 
to  the  magnificent  task  of  making  yourselves 
upright,  pure,  and  generous  men.    You   prize 
manliness ;  you  believe  in  virtue  ;  you  desire  to 
give  a  good  account  of  yourselves  in  the  arena 
and  conflict  of  life, — put  yourselves  voluntarily 
under  subjection  to  the  one  supreme  Master  of 
the  art  of  right  living ;  be  obedient,  chivalrous 
followers  and   imitators   of  Jesus  Christ.     For 
not  good  resolutions  alone,  not  mere  hard  will- 
work  alone,  will  certainly  bring  you  into  a  clear 
mastery  of  yourselves ;  you  need  the  inspiration 
of  a  personal  faith,  a  personal  love,  and  a  per- 
sonal enthusiasm.     You  need,  too,  the  help  that 
comes  through  the  appeal  of  God    to    your 
spiritual  nature;    that  appeal  is   made   in  the 
matchless  character  of  Jesus  Christ.     Subjection 
to  him  is  entrance  into   freedom   and  power. 
The  poet  Tennyson  exclaimed  in  passionate 
faith:  — 


SI 


122  The  Aim  af  Life. 

r-        -  Strong  Son  of  God,  immortal  Love, 

Whom  we,  that  have  not  seen  thy  face, 
By  faith,  and  faith  alone,  embrace, 
Believing  where  we  cannot  prove ; 


I 


f'^l 


Our  wills  are  ours,  we  know  not  how, 
Our  wills  are  ours  to  makt  tkttn  thin*" 

The  divine  control  of  us  through  faith  and 
love  makes  possible  a  true  self-control ;  in  the 
deepest  sense  the  moral  man  must  be  the  relig- 
ious man.  Our  virtues  that  stand  the  stress  and 
storm  of  the  world  are  rooted  in  our  souls'  deep 
sense  of  God.  Temperance  is  not  a  mere  utili- 
tarian virtue;  it  is  a  power  and  perfection  of 
character  the  sources  of  which  are  the  same  as 
the  sources  of  that  faith  which  lifts  man  trium- 
phant at  last  over  all  ills  in  life  and  in  death. 


N 


r  face* 


lOW, 

te." 


[h  faith  and 
»trol;  in  the 
be  the  relig- 
he  stress  and 
r  souls'  deep 
a  mere  utili- 
perfection  of 
the  same  as 
i  man  trium- 
in  death. 


DEBT. 

THOSE  have  short  Lent  who  owe  money  to  be  paid  at  Easter. 
—  Franklin. 

Debt  is  like  any  other  trap,  easy  enough  to  get  into,  but 
hard  enough  to  get  out.  —  H.  W.  Shaw. 

The  man  who  never  has  money  enough  to  pay  his  debU  has 
too  much  of  something  else.  —  J.  L.  Basfo»D. 

His  brow  is  wet  with  honest  sweat. 

He  earns  whate'er  he  can. 

And  looks  the  whole  world  in  the  face, 

For  he  owes  not  any  man. 

Longfellow. 

Withhold  not  good  from  them  to  whom  it  is  due,  when  it  ia 
in  the  power  of  thine  hand  to  do  it.  -  Pr<werds  of  Solomon. 

Owe  no  man  anything,  but  to  love  one  another ;  for  he  that 
loveth  another  hath  fulfilled  the  Uw.  -  Saint  Paul. 

THE  word  "debt"  is  an  abbreviation  of  Mi- 
tum,  a  Latin  word,  the  perfect  participle 
of  (Mm,  which  means  "  to  owe  something,  to  be 
in  debt,"  and  then,  more  broadly,  "  to  be  under 
obligation,  to  be  bound  by  duty."  It  is  prob- 
ably cognate  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  doefe,  doe/te, 
"  fit  or  convenient,"  which  appears  in  our-modem 
English  as  "  deft."    Wedgwood  in  his  etymo- 


184 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


logical  dictionary  says,  "  The  Latin  eUbeo  is 
fundamentally  to  be  explained  as  signifying  '  it 
falls  to  me  to  do  so  and  so.' "  In  its  general 
sense,  then,  debeo  means  "  I  owe,"  or  '^  I  ought." 
The  root-idea  of  these  two  phrases  is  the  same. 
"  Ought "  is  the  old  preterite,  or  past  tense,  of 
the  verb  "  owe."  Usage  has  changed  so  that 
now  we  say :  present, "  I  owe ;  "  past, "  I  owed ;  " 
whereas  the  old  usage  was :  present,  "  I  owe ;  " 
past,  *'  I  ought."  "  Ought "  has  now  become  a 
distinct  verb,  and  expresses  with  greater  depth 
and  force  than  any  other  word  in  our  language 
the  august  authority  of  the'moral  idea. 

"  Owe  "  is  the  original,  from  the  Anglo-Saxon, 
of  the  verb  "  own,"  which  means  "  to  possess." 
In  old  English  "  owe  "  was  used  as  we  now  use 
"  own ;  "  as  for  example,  in  Shakespeare :  — 

"  Thou  dost  here  usurp 
The  name  thou  ow'st  not." 

To  owe  came  to  mean,  by  ellipsis,  to  possess 
something  for  another ;  so  that  now  that  which 
is  owed  is  something  that  belongs  to  another, 
while  that  which  is  owned  is  a  personal  posses- 
sion. Debt  is  something  which  is  owed  to 
another,  —  that  is,  owned,  held  in  trust,  for 
another,  —  and  which  ought  to  be  paid. 
So  "debt"  and  "duty"  are  cognate  words; 


tin  debeo  is 
ignifying '  it 

its  general 
•  '*  I  ought." 
is  the  same, 
ast  tense,  of 
ged  so  that 
."lowed;" 
t,  "  I  owe ;  " 
>w  become  a 
reater  depth 
)ur  language 
lea. 

Inglo-Saxon, 
to  possess." 

we  now  use 
peare :  — 


s,  to  possess 
•w  that  which 
\  to  another, 
sonal  posses- 
is  owed  to 
in  trust,  for 
e  paid, 
gnate  words; 


Debt. 


185 


for  duty  means  that  which  is  due,  —  that  is,  it 

is  a  debt. 

I  have  gone  somewhat  into  detail  in  this  study 
of  words  in  order  that  you  may  see  clearly  how 
much  the  word  "  debt "  involves.     It  is  a  weighty 
word,  expressing  moral  obligation  and  revealing 
moral  law.     But  for  conscience  there  would  be 
no  such  word  as  debt ;  but  for  moral  law  there 
would  be  no  conscience;    but  for  God  there 
would  be   no  moral  law.     Many  of  our  com- 
monest words,  like  this  word  "  debt,"  strike  their 
roots  down  into  the  very  foundations  of  moral 
life,  and  bear  testimony  to  man's  primal  rela- 
tion, as  a  moral  being,  to  God.     Few  people 
think  that  every  time  tliey  use  the  word  *'  debt " 
they  are  unconsciously  witnessing  to  the  power 
of  conscience,  the  authority  of  moral  law,  and 
the  being  and  sovereignty  of  God. 

On  the  other  hand,  many  of  our  words  are 
involuntary  witnesses  to  human  passion  and  sel- 
fishness, to  human  ignorance  and  guile,  and  to 
the  perversion  of  human  life  and  character  by 
vice  and  sin. 

Men  shrink  sometimes  from  the  seeming  exag- 
geration and  injustice  of  Jesus's  saying :  "  By  thy 
words  thou  shalt  be  justified,  and  by  thy  words 
thou  shalt  be  condemned ;  "  but  this  saying 
expresses  the  profoundest  insight,  and  is  sup- 


\-^ 


126 


The  Aim  of  Lift. 


ported  by  the  soHdest  reasoning.  As  individual 
men  express  their  characters  in  their  habitual 
speech,  so  a  people  writes  its  moral  history  in 
its  language.  A  word  is  but  a  vibration  of  the 
air,  a  pulse  of  sound,  or  a  figure  stamped  on 
paper,  yet  it  can  wound  like  a  knife  or  heal 
like  balsam ;  it  may  shine  with  the  light  of  truth 
and  love,  or  glow  with  the  lurid  fire  of  passion 
and  hate ;  it  may  be  a  revelation  of  virtue  and 
faith,  or  it  may  disclose  wickedness  that  has 
become  unconscious  habit. 

«•  Words  are  mighty,  words  are  living  t 
Serpents  with  their  venomous  stings. 
Or  bright  angels,  crowding  round  us,         ^ 
With  heaven's  light  upon  their  wings  j 
Every  word  has  its  own  spirit, 
True  or  false,  that  never  dies ; 
Every  word  man's  lips  have  uttered 
Echoes  in  God's  skies." 

I.  The  word  "  debt "  has  a  well-known  specific 
meaning.  As  commonly  used,  it  refers  to 
money  or  goods  or  service  which  one  person, 
on  account  of  an  equivalent  already  received,  is 
under  obligation  to  render  to  another.  This  we 
may  call  its  commercial  sense.  The  considera- 
tion of  debt  falls  within  the  domain  of  practical 
ethics,  because  debt  is  essentially  moral.  It 
could  not  exist  if  men  were  not  moral  beings ;  it 


Dtbt 


137 


s  individual 
sir  habitual 
il  history  in 
ation  of  the 
stamped  on 
life  or  heal 
ight  of  truth 
c  of  passion 
f  virtue  and 
ss  that  has 


ng: 
igs, 
us, 
ingst 


ed 

town  specific 
it  refers  to 
one  person, 
yr  received,  is 
cf.  This  we 
lie  considera- 
I  of  practical 
>r  moral.  It 
■al  beings ;  it 


cannot  be  conceived  of  as  existing  among  beaste. 
Properly  a  debt  is  a  moral  obligation ;  but  in 
the  relations  which  men  sustain  to  each  other 
as  members  of  a  common  political  society  and 
under  the  authority  of  civil  laws,  sometimes 
debt  exists  formally  where  it  does  not  actually. 
Through  injustice  or  dishonesty,  through  the 
abuse  of  power  or  the  exercise  of  cunning,  men 
often  take  advantage  of  each  other,  and  make 
demands  for  that  which  is  not  morally  due;  and 
these  demands  they  are  able  legally  to  enforce. 
Thus  there  are,  we  may  say,  three  kinds  of 
specific  debt :  — 

(i)  That  which  one  is  legally  but  not  morally 

bound  to  pay; 

(2)  That  which  one  is  morally  but  not  legally 

bound  to  pay ;  and 

(3)  That  which    one   is   both    legally   and 
morally  bound  to  pay. 

With  reference  to  the  first  kind  of  debts 
which  one  is-  legally  but  not  morally  bound  to 
pay,  it  may  be  remarked  that  they  are  not  true 
debts;  they  do  not  immediately  signify  duties. 
They  are  misfortunes,  the  results  perhaps  of 
carelessness,  or  even  of  selfishness.  No  obli- 
gation to  pay  such  debts  inheres  in  the  debts 
themselves;  but  there  may  be  obligation  to  pay 
liiem  arising  from  the  duty  of  maintaining  the 


iiiiisBiMisiniMHtai^^^^ 


138 


Tht  Aim  of  Lift. 


x\ 


laws,  even  though,  through  imperfection,  the 
laws  sometimes  work  injustice  to  the  individual, 
or  from  the  duty  of  yielding  a  right  before  the 
higher  right  of  preserving  peace  and  morally 
benefiting  another. 

Such  debts  as  are  legal  but  not  strictly  moral 
must  be  dealt  with  according  to  the  merits  and 
circumstances  of  the  particular  case.  As  far  as 
possible  avoid  such  debts  by  a  cai'eful  circum- 
spection in  your  dealings  with  men. 

There  is  a  kind  of  debt  of  which  I  am  loath 
to  speak,  but  which  the  ethical  teacher  is  com* 
pelled  to  notice.  I  refer  to  obligations  assumed 
while  one  is  in  a  mentally  and  morally  irres- 
ponsible condition,  —  as,  for  example,  when  he 
is  drunk,  — and  obligations  that  are  assumed 
in  betting.and  other  forms  of  gambling.  The 
laws  and  ttu:  courts  recognize  that  the  chief 
elements  in  an  obligatory  contract  are  wanting 
in  both  of  these  cases ;  and  to  a  large  extent 
they  protect  men  from  the  consequences  of 
their  own  folly  or  vice.  But  the  moral  obliga- 
tion of  the  debtor  cannot  always  be  determined 
by  a  legal  process.  Two  or  three  things  are 
pretty  clear:  it  is  immoral  to  get  drunk,  and 
it  is  immoral  to  gamble;  and  certainly  the 
creditor  who  has  made  himself  formally  such 
by  taking  advantage  of  another  man's  weakness 


erfcction,  the 

:he  individual, 

ht  before  the 

and  morally 

strictly  moral 
he  merits  and 
se.  As  far  as 
li-eful  circum- 
en. 

:h  I  am  loath 
acher  is  com* 
tions  assumed 
norally  irres- 
iple,  when  he 

are  assumed 
nbling.  The 
hat  the  chief 
t  are  wanting 

large  extent 
[sequences  of 
moral  obliga- 
>e  determined 
ee  things  are 
:t  drunk,  and 
certainly  the 
formally  such 
an's  weakness 


or  ignorance,  or  by  the  arbitrament  of  chance, 
has  no  moral  right  to  compel  payment.     But 
the  debtor  who  has  made  himself  formally  such 
while  int  )xicated,  or  by  gaming,  must  face  the 
question  whether  the  payment  of  the  factitious 
debt  is  not  a  \'<-  lalty  for  his  immorality  which 
he  would  better  endure  as  a  wholesome  disci- 
pline;  if  in  this  way  he  can   guard   himself 
from  a  second  experience,  the  lesson  will  be 
worth  its  cost.     Certainly  no  man  has  a  right 
to  put   himself   in  paI  irresponsible  condition, 
and  no  man  has  a  right  to  incur  obligations,  or 
to  exact  the  fulfilment  of  obligations,  that  rest 
on  no  solid  basis  of  service  or  value  rendered 
for  an  equivalent.     Ih  gambling  there  is   no 
equivalent  rendered  for  the  value  received.    A 
fine  sense  of  honor  will  shrink  from  the  whole 
wretched  business  of  gaming  and  betting  as 
unworthy  of  men.    When  we  are  more  civilized 
we  shall  put  betting  where  we  have  put  duell- 
ing, and  the  question  of  factitious  debts  will 
pass  out  of  the  discussion  of  practical  ethics. 
With  reference  to  the  second  kind  of  debt, 
—  that  which  one  is  morally  but  not  legally 
bound  to  pay,  —  there  scarcely  can  be  two 
opinions  where  there  is  sound  judgment  and 
quick  conscience.     Debt  is  duty,  and  laws  do 
not  make  or  unmake  duty ;  they  simply  define 

9 


niiTii'fJTT^'^"'^'"""-''^'**'" 


I30 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


certain  duties,  and  often  do  that  very  imper- 
fectly. What  you  owe  to  another,  that  other 
has  a  right  to  have ;  for  obligations  on  one  side 
involve  corresponding  rights  oti  the  other.  It 
is  always  the  moral  rather  than  the  merely 
legal  element  which  is  predominant  in  a  true 
debt.  There  are  many  men  who  have  false 
ideas  of  the  ethics  of  debt.  A  debt  that  does 
not  bind  them  by  law  is  considered  a  doubtful 
claim.  Just  as  in  the  minds  of  some  men  an 
oath  is  more  binding  than  a  simple  affirmation, 
and  perjury  a  sin  far  exceeding  in  gravity  the 
most  outrageous  lying,  so,  in  some  minds, 
the  gravamen  of  obligation  in  a  debt  lies  in 
the  strength  of  the  legal  claim.  The  result  is 
that  debts  often  are  evaded  through  legal 
defects,  or  repudiated  because  there  is  no  power 
to  compel  their  payment.  The  dishonesty  of 
this  is  radical. 

Through  misfortune,  which  he  could  neither 
foresee  not  avert,  a  man  may  be  placed  in 
such  circumstances  that  he  cannot  pay  his 
debts;  and  in  certain  cases  the  law  merci- 
fully and  wisely  steps  in  to  save  him  from 
such  utter  destitution  as  would  deprive  him 
of  power  ever  to  recover  his  loss.  But 
whether  bound  by  legal  requirement  or  not, 
the  debtor  is  morally  bound;  and   if  he  is  a 


very  imper- 
r,  that  other 
s  on  one  side 
he  other.     It 

the  merely 
rnt  in  a  true 
0  have  false 
jbt  that  does 
;d  a  doubtful 
some  men  an 
e  affirmation, 
in  gravity  the 
some  minds, 

debt  lies  in 
The  result  is 
hrough  legal 
■e  is  no  power 
dishonesty  of 

could  neither 
be  placed  in 
inot  pay  his 
i  law  merci- 
ve  him  from 
deprive  him 
}  loss.  But 
;ment  or  not, 
id   if  he  is  a 


De6i. 


131 


true  man,  the  only  thing  that  will  prevent  him 
from  meeting  all  his  obligations  is  absolute 
inability. 

There  are  many  people  who  seem  to  think 
very  lightly  of  debt ;  as  though  it  were  a  small 
matter  to  be  under  financial  obligation.  Not 
a  few  have  no  hesitation  in  incurring  debt 
without  the  slightest  intention  of  ever  troub- 
ling themselves  about  paying  the  debt;  yet 
they  would  scorn  to  steal.  Meanwhile  it 
would  tax  a  very  subtle  casuist  to  draw  a  valid 
and  clear  distinction  between  many  a  debtor 
and  a  thief. 

Always  a  true  debt  involves  moral  obliga- 
tion; and  whether  there  be  legal  obligation 
or  not  is  a  sm;-ll  matter  before  the  bar  of 
conscience. 

It  is  a  lesson  which  multitudes  need  to  learn, 
—  that  a  debt  is  meant  to  be  paid.  Simple  as 
the  lesson  is,  even  religion  seems  insufficient 
to  teach  it  effectually  to  som^  men.  Whatever 
human  laws  may  say,  God's  law  says:  "Pay 
what  thou  owest ! "  A  debt  may  be  forgiven, 
and  so  dissolved ;  but  it  cannot  be  repudiated 
without  guilt.  Moral  obligation  is  the  most 
tenacious  and  persistent  thing  in  this  universe. 
The  debt  which  you  refuse  to  pay  has  in  it  a 
moral  element  that  will  abide  when  time  has 


13* 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


gone,  and  the  world  has  passed  away;  and  it 
will  haunt  you  like  a  condemning  spirit  in 
eternity.  Man  cannot  die  out  of  the  sphere  of 
moral  obligation.  No  sophistry  can  extinguish 
a  duty ;  no  change  in  circumstances  will  soften 
the  stern  imperative  of  moral  law. 

The  requirement  of  civil  law,  then,  does  not 
effect  the  essential  quality  of  debt,  either  by 
its  presence  or  absence.  What  is  right  is 
right ;  what  is  due  is  due,  —  whether  it  be 
recognized  in  the  statutes  of  States  or  not. 

Having  laid  a  broad  and  solid  ethical  founda- 
tion for  our  thought  on  this  theme,  I  wish  now 
to  give  you  some  homely,  practical  suggestions 
concerning  debt  in  its  specific  sense  of  an 
obligation  to  render  money  or  goods  or 
marketable    service  to    another. 

(i)  In  the  first  place  debt  is  not  of  necessity 
absolutely  to  be  avoided ;  sometimes  one  must 
incur  debt.  The  relations  of  men  to  each  other 
commercially  are  such  that  debt  in  some  form 
is  often  proper  and  even  unavoidable.  Saint 
Paul  wrote  to  the  Roman  Christians:  "Owe 
no  man  anything,  but  to  love  one  another." 
These  words  must  not  be  construed  into  a 
command,  having  force  for  all  time,  never  to 
incur  financial  obligations.  They  do  imply 
the  principle  that  debts  are  to  be  paid;  that 


ay;  and  it 
g  spirit  in 
e  sphere  of 
extinguish 
will  soften 


n,  does  not 
,  either  by 
is  right  is 
jther  it  be 
tes  or  not. 
ical  f  ounda- 
I  wish  now 
suggestions 
ense  of  an 
goods    or 

of  necessity 
:s  one  must 
3  each  other 
1  some  form 
ible.  Saint 
lans:  "Owe 
le  another." 
rued  into  a 
le,  never  to 
y  do  imply 
:  paid;  that 


De6f. 


133 


men  are  not  to  be  perpetually  owing,  but  are 
faithfully  to  discharge    their    obligations   to 
each  other.    But  there  was  also  in  the  apostle's 
words  a  meaning  which  has  ceased  to  be  perti- 
nent.    History  tells  us  that  when  he  wrote, 
the  disciples  of  Christ  in  Rome  were  already, 
or  were  soon  to  be,  in  almost  constant  peril  of 
death  or  pillage.     Nero  was  emperor,  and  the 
times  were    uncertain    and    troublous.     The 
Christian  was    like    a    lamb    among  wolves. 
The    whole   world  was  hostile;    its  customs 
and    laws,    social    and    civil,   were  in  many 
respects  violently  opposed  to  the   Christian 
scheme  of  life.     It  behooved  Christians  to  live 
as  minute-men,  unencumbered  and  ready  for 
any  emergency.     In  harmony  with   this  was 
the  apostle's  exhortation  to  the  believers  in 
Corinth:   "This  I  say,  brethren,  the  time  is 
short:  it  remaineth,  that  both  they  that  have 
wives  be  as  though  they  had  none;  and  they 
that  weep,  as  though  they  wept  not;  and  they 
that  rejoice,  as  though  they  rejoiced  not;  and 
they  that  buy,  as  though  they  possessed  not :  and 
they  that  use  this  world,  as  not  abusing  it :  for 
the  fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away:'    Un- 
doubtedly,   too,    these   and   similar   counsels 
were  prompted  by  the  belief,  which  Saint  Paul 
for  a  time  shared  with  many  of  his  contem- 


134 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


m 


m 


■i-^ 


i 


poraries,  that  Christ  was  to  come  again  during 
their  age  and  life-time  to  bring  earthly  history 
to  a  close. 

The  superficial  meaning  of  these  words  evi- 
dently is  not  for  times  like  the  present,  in 
which  Christian  thought  increasingly  shapes 
the  laws  and  controls  the  government  of 
society. 

Debt  is  to-day  a  commercial  necessity.  A 
large  part  of  trade  is  carried  on  by  creating  or 
assuming  financial  obligations.  Great  enter- 
prises, individual  and  national,  are  built  on 
credit,  —  the  faith  of  man  in  man.  Debt  is 
not,  therefore,  absolutely  to  be  avoided,  though 
it  should  be  incurred  only  in  accordance  with 
fixed  moral  and  economic  principles. 

(2)  The  assumption  of  obligations  to  pay 
should  be  accompanied  by  the  manifest  ability 
to  pay.  It  is  a  requisite  of  simple  honesty 
that  debt  should  be  incurred  only  when  there 
is  a  clear  certainty  that  it  can  be  discharged. 
No  man  and  no  government  has  a  right  to  make 
debts  in  excess  of  substantial  assets.  Assets 
may  be  in  the  form  of  actual  values  or  of 
power  to  create  values.  The  permanent  eco- 
nomic equation  is,  credit  proportioned  to  real 
values.  As  a  rule  debt  should  be  avoided 
by  the  young;  and  it  should  be  resolutely 


;ain  during 
hly  history 

words  evi- 
aresent,  in 
gly  shapes 
rnment    of 

lessity.  A 
creating  or 
reat  enter- 
e  built  on 
.  Debt  is 
led,  though 
dance  with 

ons  to  pay 
fest  ability 
lie  honesty 
when  there 
discharged, 
ght  to  make 
ts.  Assets 
ilues  or  of 
iianent  eco- 
►ned  to  real 
be  avoided 
I  resolutely 


Debt. 


avoided  by  all  who  have  not  in  present  posses- 
sions, or  present  power,  the  guaranty  that  the 
debt  will  be  paid.     Young  men  are  prone  to 
go  in  debt.    Life  is  so  full  of  promise  to  them ; 
the  future  shines  so   bright  to  young  eyes; 
youth  is  so  richly  endowed  with  hope  and  con- 
fidence, —  that  to  incur  financial  obligation  does 
not  seem  a  very  serious  matter.     Consequently 
many,  thinking  lightly  of  debt,  have  mortgaged 
their  whole  future,  and  subjected  themselves 
to  a  life-long  struggle  to  meet  demands  which 
are  nearly  or  quite  beyond  their  utmost  power 
to  fulfil.     Discontented  with  present  circuni- 
stances,    impatient    of  restrictions    on    their 
desires,  eager  for  pleasures  that  are  costly,  and 
ambitious  to  display  a  style  of  dress  and  living 
that  is  beyond  their  present  means,  they  bor- 
row money  on  pledges  which  are  easy  to  make 
but  hard  to  redeem,  and  ere  long  they  wake 
up  to  the  fact  that  they  have  spent  a  fortune 
before  it   is    earned.     Then    they  begin  the 
wearisome,  painful  fight  to  atone  for  their  folly 
and  retrieve  their  lost  liberty,  or,  disheartened, 
sink  into  perpetual  discredit  among  their  fel- 
lows, or,  still  worse,  yield  to  the  temptation 
to  engage  in  immoral  enterprises  for  gain. 

It  is  surprising  what  ideas  of  financial  pros- 
perity some   men  have;  they  measure  their 


liiiiiiiiiMiiMHItt^Br 


136 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


success  by  their  ability  to  get  in  debt.  A 
young  man  who  had  settled  in  a  western  town 
was  visited,  after  a  year  or  two,  by  an  old 
friend  from  the  East.  When  asked  how  he  was 
getting  on  he  replicu:  "Oh,  it's  a  capital 
place;  a  first-rate  place  for  a  young  man! 
When  I  came  here  I  wasn't  worth  a  cent,  and 
now  I  owe  a  thousand  dollars." 

Those  were  wise  words  which  Horace  Greeley 
wrote:  "Hunger,  cold,  rags,  hard  work,  con- 
tempt, suspicion,  unjust  reproach,  are  disagree- 
able;  and  debt  is  infinitely  worse  than  them  alL 
And  if  it  had  pleased  God  to  spare  either  or 
all  of  my  sons  to  be  the  support  and  solace  of 
my  declining  years,  the  lesson  which  I  should 
have  earnestly  sought  to  impress  upon  them  is, 
•Never  nm  into  debt!    Avoid  pecuniary  obli- 
gation as  you  would  pestilence  or  famine.    If 
you  have  but  fifty  cents,  and  can  get  no  more 
for  a  week,  buy  a  peck  of  corn,  parch  it,  and 
live  on  it,  rather  than  owe  any  man  a  dollar.'" 
Greeley's  life  was  a  noble  commentary  on  his 
words.     He  fought  his  way  from  poverty  to 
competence,  and  from  obscurity  to  an  honorable 
fame ;  and  I  never  heard  that  he  had  an  unpaid 
debt.     Many  a  man  has  condemned  himself  to 
perpetual  hardship  through  a  fatal  facility  in 
"getting   trustied;"   many  another  has  sunk 


Debt. 


137 


debt.  A 
tern  town 
yy  an  old 
DW  he  was 
a  capital 
ung  man! 
cent,  and 

ce  Greeley 
work,  con- 
;  disagree- 
1  them  all. 
:  either  or 
1  solace  of 
h  I  should 
in  them  is, 
niary  obli- 
:amine.    If 
et  no  more 
rch  it,  and 
a  dollar.'" 
tary  on  his 
poverty  to 
1  honorable 
1  an  unpaid 
himself  to 
facility  in 
■  has  sunk 


into  confirmed  vice  under  the  pressure  of  early 
and  unmanageable  debt.  So  too  many  a  dis- 
aster in  business  has  come  as  the  direct  result 
of  carelessly  incurring  obligations  which  could 
not  be  met,  and  of  trading  on  chimerical 
probabilities. 

Like  Horace  Greeley,  Thomas  Carlyle  hated 
debt  so  violently  that  he  would  not  borrow 
even  to  relieve  real  distress,  and  toiled  through 
years  of  ill-paid  labor  to  win  for  himself  a 
competence.     The    eccentric  John   Randolph 
once  sprang  from  his  seat  in  the  House  of 
Representatives,  and  exclaimed  in  his  piercing 
voice :  "  Mr.  Speaker,  I  have  found  it ! "     And 
then,    in  the    stillness    which   followed    this 
strange  outburst,  he  added:  "I  have  found  the 
Philosopher's  Stone;  it  \spay  as  you  go'"    It 
is  a  fact  that  more  dishonesty,  often  involun- 
tary dishonesty,  is  caused  by  recklessness  in 
incurring  debt  than  in  almost  any  other  way. 
Every  young  man  should  write  it  down  as  a 
fundamental  principle  of  practical  ethics,  that 
simple  honesty  demands  that  he  shall  make  no 
debt  which  he  cannot  surely  pay.     Nothing  will 
compensate  for  a  failure  resolutely  to  observe 
this  principle.    No  amount  of  genius  atones  for 
dishonesty.    It  is  said  that  when  Sidney  Smith 
once  went  into  a  new  neighborhood,  it  was 


138 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


given  out  in  the  local  papers  that  he  was  a 
man  of  high  connections,  and  he  was  besought 
on  all  sides  for  his  "custom."  But  he  speedily 
undeceived  his  new  neighbors.  "We  are  not 
great  people  at  all,"  he  said;  "we  are  only 
common,  honest  people,  —people  that  pay  our 
debts."  Let  it  be  ever  remembered  in  honor 
of  Sir  Walter  Scott  that  he  sacrificed  his  life 
by  his  prodigious  labors  to  pay  his  debts,  for  a 
large  part  of  which  he  was  not  responsible, 
and  to  save  Abbotsford,  his  home,  and  that  the 
Waverley  Novels  are  a  perpetual  testimony  to 
his  chivalrous  regard  for  the  sacredness  of 
financial  obligations. 

I  have  no  power  adequately  to  depict  the 
wretchedness  and  pain  which  have  been  caused 
by  debt  heedlessly  incurred ;  every  community 
affords  abundant  illustration.  You  all  remem- 
ber Dickens'  character,  Mr.  Micawber,  and  what 
a  laughable,  pitiable,  lovable,  and  contempti- 
ble character  he  is,  ever  discharging  old  obliga- 
tions by  making  new  ones,  and  fatuously  fancy- 
ing that  one  note  was  paid  when  another, 
bearing  a  more  recent  date,  was  given  in  its 
place.  You  remember,  too,  the  wise  words 
which  Micawber  uttered,  but  the  wisdom  of 
which,  in  his  conduct,  he  scrupulously  avoided: 
"Annual  income  twenty  pounds,   annual   ex- 


at  he  was  a 

ras  besought 

he  speedily 

We  are  not 

we  are  only 

that  pay  our 

-ed  in  honor 

ficed  his  life 

debts,  for  a 

responsible, 

and  that  the 

testimony  to 

acredness  of 

depict  the 

been  caused 

^  community 

u  all  remem- 

l}er,  and  what 

1   contempti- 

g  old  obliga- 

uously  fancy- 

len    another, 

given  in  its 

wise   words 

:  wisdom  of 

isly  avoided : 

annual   ex- 


Debt. 


139 


penditure  nineteen  nineteen  six,  result  happi- 
ness. Annual  income  twenty  pounds,  annual 
expenditure  twenty  pounds  ought  and  six,  result 
misery."  The  misery  which  Micawber  contin- 
ually experienced  is  representative  of  the  misery 
which  multitudes  endure  who  indulge  in  the  folly 
of  living  beyond  their  means.  And  the  worst 
of  it  all  is  not  the  misery,  but  the  actual  guilt 
—  the  dishonesty  before  God  and  men  —  which 
invites  and  receives  certain  condemnation. 

The  writings  of  Benjamin  Franklin  are  worthy 
of  a  place  in  every  young  man's  library,  if  for 
no  other  reason,  for  the  sake  of  the  soundness 
and  pointedness  of  his  counsel  on  the  conduct 
of  practical  affairs.  "  Think,"  he  says,  —  "  think 
what  you  do  when  you  run  in  debt ;  you  give 
to  another  power  over  your  liberty.  If  you 
cannot  pay  at  the  time,  you  will  be  ashamed  to 
see  your  creditor ;  you  will  be  in  fear  when  you 
speak  to  him;  you  will  make  poor,  pitiful, 
sneaking  excuses,  and  by  degrees  come  to  lose 
your  veracity,  and  sink  into  base  downright 
lying,  —  for  the  second  vice  is  lying,  the  first  is 
running  in  debt,  as  Poor  Richard  says,  and 
again,  to  the  same  purpose.  Lying  rides  on 
Debt's  back." 

'  2.  I  turn  now,  for  a  few  minutes,  J^o  the 
broad  meaning  of  debt  as  something  which  is 


140 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


due,  —  that  is,  as  synonomous  with  duty.     Be- 
cause man  is  a  moral  being,  having  intimate  and 
responsible  relations  with  his   fellow-creatures 
and  with  God,  he  is  subject  to  duty.     Under  a 
comprehensive  and  beneficent  moral  law  he  is  in 
debt  to  all  men  and  to  God.    This  debt  is  perma- 
nent;   it  is  not  extinguished  by  payment,  for 
it  rises  freshly  into  existence  with  every  moment 
of  life.    We  do  not  assume  this  debt,  nor  can 
we  throw  it  off.    We  may  refuse  to  acknowledge 
it  wholly  or  in  part;  but  its  claim  is  never  re- 
laxed, and,  unlike  financial  debts  in  some  States, 
it  is  never  outlawed.    No  man  is  or  ever  can  be 
clear  of  it ;  it  inheres  in  the  very  nature  of  his 
moral  being  and  relations.    There  is  no  differ- 
ence, with   reference   to  this  fundamental  fact 
of  moral  life,  between  the  Christian  and  the 
heathen,  between  believer  and  unbeliever.     The 
one  may  recognize  and  acknowledge  what  he 
owes  to  his  fellow-men  and  to   God,  and  the 
other  may  not;   but  the  recognition  does  not 
make  the  debt,  nor  does  the  lack  of  recognition 
unmake  it.    Every  man  is  bound  to  live  justly 
and  benevolently  toward  other  men,  and  rever- 
ently and  righteously  toward  God.    The   fact 
that  the  best  men  do  this  imperfectly  does  not 
affect  the  obligation,  does  not  make  it  less  than 
absolutely  imperative  and  everlasting.    Salva- 


h  duty.    Bc- 
l  intimate  and 
[low-creatures 
ity.     Under  a 
al  law  he  is  in 
iebt  is  perma- 
paymcnt,  for 
every  moment 
debt,  nor  can 
)  acknowledge 
1  is  never  re- 
nsome  States, 
>r  ever  can  be 
nature  of  his 
e  is  no  differ- 
idamental  fact 
stian  and  the 
)eliever.    The 
edge  what  he 
God,  and  the 
ition  does  not 
of  recognition 
d  to  live  justly 
en,  and  rever- 
ed.   The   fact 
ectly  does  not 
ake  it  less  than 
asting.    Salva- 


Dedi. 


141 


tion  is  the  process  of  coming  into  that  perfec- 
tion of  moral  life  which  this  obligation  implies 
as  the  true  ideal  and   destiny  of  man. 

There  are  many  erroneous  ideas  with  respect  to 
the  scope  of  moral  obligation.     It  is  said  some- 
times that  the  Christian  ought  to  be  better  than 
the  unchristian  man,  and  the  preacher  better  than 
the  pew-holder.   Properly  qualified  this  statement 
is  true,  but  unless  thus  qualified  it  is  not  true,  it  is 
even  absurdly  false.   Every  one  is  bound  to  be  the 
best  in  character  and  conduct  that  is  possible 
for  him  to  be.    The  confessed  follower  of  Christ 
ought  to  exemplify  the  virtues  and  graces  of  his 
Master;  but  is  it  not  true  that  the  rejector  of 
Christ  should  also  exefnplify  these  virtues  and 
graces?    Does  the  Christians  recognition  of  his 
duty  constitute  his  duty?    The  truth  is  simply 
that  the  former  openly  recognizes  in  some  meas- 
ure what  he  ought  to  do  and  be,  while  the  latter 
do«  s  not.    There  is  no  escape  from  obligation 
by  refusing  to  acknowledge  obligation ;  other- 
wise there  would  be  an  end  of  all  virtue.     God 
is  no  respector  of  persons ;  moral  law  is  universal. 
Duty  is  as  broad  as  humanity.     A  chief  func- 
tion of  Christianity  is  to  teach  and  convince  men 
that  they  all  should  obey  God,  that  they  all 
should  follow  the  mind  of  Christ,  that  they  all 
should  turn  from  sin  and  live  the  beautiful  life 


LKiw^'imivimt 


gP» 


143  The  Aim  of  Life. 

of  holiness.  God's  love  regards  not  a  favored 
few,  but  the  whole  human  race ;  so  God's  claim 
rests  not  on  the  few,  but  on  all.  Obligation  is 
not  nullified  by  denial  of  it  There  is  no  hiding- 
place  for  the  soul  that  repudiates  the  claims  of 
duty ;  there  is  no  recess  in  this  universe  where 
the  authority  of  moral  law  does  not  penetrate,  — 
it  is  as  pervasive  and  omnipresent  as  the 
atmosphere. 

Have  clearly  in  mind  that  there  is  one  debt 
v/hich  rests  on  you  all.  It  is  neither  unequal 
nor  transient.  It  is  not  a  burden,  but  a  blessing ; 
for  it  is  the  necessary  condition  of  happiness  and 
peace.  When  oughtness  is  met  by  willingness 
heaven  is  begun.  *'  Great  peace,"  said  the  Psalm- 
ist, grasping  this  truth, —  "  great  peace  have  they 
who  love  thy  law." 

Often  a  distinction  is  made  between  duty  to 
our  fellow-men  and  duty  to  God;  but  there  is 
no  real  distinction.  The  New  Testament  clearly 
recognizes  that  all  duties  are  to  God,  and  that 
pure  love  and  service  to  humanity  are  the  true 
worship. 

But  the  formal  distinction  between  philan- 
thropy and  religion  is  convenient  for  purposes 
of  discussion. 

(i)  We  are  debtors,  then,  to  our  fellow-men. 
We  owe  them  love  and  helpfulness  in  their  toils 


Debl. 


'43 


Dt  a  favored 
God's  claim 
)bligation  in 
is  no  hiding- 
le  claims  of 
iverse  where 
penetrate,  — 
sent  as   the 

is  one  debt 
her  unequal 
t  a  blessing ; 
ippiness  and 
,r  willingness 
id  the  Psalm- 
ce  have  they 

reen  duty  to 
but  there  is 
iment  clearly 
od,  and  that 
are  the  true 

veen  philan- 
for  purposes 

■  fellow-men. 
in  their  toils 


and  struggles;  sympathy  in  their  sorrows,  and 
service  in  their  need.  We  owe  it  to  them  to 
practise  virtue  and  charity,  to  aftord  them  an 
elevating  example,  to  share  with  them  our  bless- 
ings, and  to  import  to  them  our  joys.  The 
claims  of  a  common  humanity  arc  con«:inuous. 
The  debt  is  persistent ;  it  is  not  discharged  by 
any  single  act  of  beneficence,  but  only  by  a  life 
of  constant  generous  service.  All  yreat  souls 
have  recognized  in  some  measure  the  debt. 
Saint  Paul  said  of  himself:  "  I  am  debtor  both  to 
the  Greeks  and  to  the  Barbarians ;  both  to  the 
wise,  and  to  the  unwise."  The  altruism  of 
modern  scientific  thought  is  but  the  tardy  rec- 
ognition of  the  law  of  Christ,  which  is  the 
universal  moral  law. 

(2)  We  are  debtors  to  God.  He  gives  us 
being  and  power,  and  the  capacity  for  blessed- 
ness. We  owe  Him  reverence  and  love  and 
obedience;  we  owe  Him  the  joyful  worship 
of  pure  hearts.  He  claims  this  from  us,  and 
emphasizes  His  claim  by  the  revelation  of  His 
nature  and  will  in  the  person  and  life  of  Jesus 
Christ  His  claim  is  uttered  in  the  law  given 
on  Sinai;  it  is  sung  in  the  evangel  at  Bethle- 
hem ;  it  is  breathed  in  the  dying  prayer  of  the 
crucified  Jesus;  it  is  trumpeted  in  the  Apostolic 
call  to  repentance;   it  is  voiced  in  the  psalms 


1 


144 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


of  the  redeemed  who  chant  the  praises  of  "  the 
Lamb"  in  the  Apocalypse.  Every  gift  of  God 
to  us  is  a  witness  and  evidence  of  our  debt 
Every  sunrise  proclaims  it ;  every .  common 
blessing,  such  as  life  and  air  and  food  and 
power  of  limb  and  faculty  of  mind,  attests  it; 
every  deliverance  from  peril  or  temptation  de- 
clares it  Our  debt  to  God  finds  expression  in 
every  holy  hymn  that  makes  melody  amid 
the  discords  and  strifes  of  the  world.  Every 
church  spire  pointing  to  the  skies  is  a  mute  wit- 
ness to  it ;  every  prayer  acknowledges  it  It  is 
the  one  thing  that  makes  the  life  of  man  in- 
telligible and  sacred. 

Our  life  does  not  begin  to  take  on  dignity  and 
significance  until,  in  some  way,  we  apprehend 
and  acknowledge  our  debt  to  God.  Subjection 
to  this  debt  is  not  bondage,  but  liberty.  It  is 
to  the  soul  what  air  is  to  the  lungs,  and  light  to 
the  eye,  and  red  blood  to  the  beating  heart 

But  the  debt  is  one ;  it  is  the  duty  of  living 
in  that  love  of  man  which  is  religion,  that  love 
of  God  which  is  philanthropy.  Shun  all  debts 
but  this.  Recognize  this  anH  welcome  it  as  the 
sign  of  your  divine  kinship  and  destiny,  and 
pour  out  your  life  in  glad  and  continuous  and 
ever-increasing  payment 


raises  of  "  the 
y  gift  of  God 
of  our  debt 
very .  common 
md  food  and 
ind,  attests  it; 
emptation  de- 
I  expression  in 
melody  amid 
vorld.  Every 
is  a  mute  wit- 
edges  it  It  is 
ife  of  man  in- 

on  dignity  and 
we  apprehend 
id.     Subjection 

liberty.  It  is 
js,  and  light  to 
iting  heart 

duty  of  living 
igion,  that  love 
Shun  all  debts 
Icome  it  as  the 
d  destiny,  and 
continuous  and 


THE  TRUE   ARISTOCRACY. 

Virtue  alone  is  true  nobility.  —  Juvenal. 
Whoe'er  amidst  the  sons 
Of  reason,  valor,  liberty,  and  virtue, 
Displays  distinguished  merit,  is  a  noble 

Of  Nature's  own  creating. 

Thomson. 

Howe'er  It  be,  it  seems  to  me, 

'Jii  only  noble  to  be  good. 
Kind  hearts  are  more  than  coronets. 

And  simple  fsdth  than  Norman  blood. 

Tennyson. 

You  may  depend  upon  it  that  there  are  as  good  hearts  to 
serve  men  in  palaces  as  in  cottages.  —  Robert  Owen. 

A  king  can  mak  a  belted  knight, 

A  marquis,  duke,  and  a'  that ; 
But  an  honest  man 's  aboon  his  might, 

Guid  faith  he  mauna  fa'  that ! 
For  a'  that,  and  a*  that. 

Their  dignities  and  a'  that. 
The  pith  o'  sense,  and  pride  o'  worth. 

Are  higher  ranks  than  a'  that. 

Burns. 

High-dizened,  most  expensive  persons,  Aristocracy  soKalled, 
or  Best  at  the  world,  beware,  beware  what  proofs  you  are 
Hiving  here  of  bettemess  and  bestness  I  A  select  populace, 
with  money  in  its  purse,  and  driUed  a  little  by  the  posture- 
master  :  good  Heavens !  —  Carlyle. 

Whosoever  will  be  great  among  you,  shall  be  your  minbter ; 
and  whosoever  of  you  wiU  be  the  chiefest,  shaU  be  servant  of 
alL— Jesus  Christ. 

lO 


■mm^-- 


M 


146  The  Aim  of  Life. 

'pi^E  use  of  the  adjective  "true"  implies  that 
•■■      there  is  a  false  aristocracy.     Almost  every 
good  thing  in  the  worid  has  its  counterfeit;  and 
almost  every  evil  institution  or  custom  in  human 
society  is  a  prophetic  or  remiuiscent  counter- 
feit or  caricature  of  a  good  institution  or  custom. 
The  word  "  aristocracy"  has  primarily  a  politi- 
cal significance.    It  is  from  two  Greek  words, 
&purto%,    "the    best,"    and   /rparo?,  "power;  " 
whence  ipurTOKparia,  which  means  the  rule  of 
the  best.      Webster  defines  "aristocracy"  as 
"  A  governing  body  composed  of  the  best  men 
m  the  state,"  and  then  significantly  adds  con- 
cerning this  definition :  "  Odsole/e  and  very  rarer 
Such  is  the  sense  of  the  word  in  Ben  Jonson's 
lines :  — 

«« If  the  Senate 
Right  not  our  quest  in  this,  I  wiU  protest  them 

To  all  the  world  no  aristoeracy." 

Commonly  the  word  has  designated  a  privileged 
class  of  people  who  claimed  superiority  and 
nilership  over  the  multitude  by  virtue  of  an 
assumed  distinction  in  blood  and  consequent 

rights. 

Intrinsically  the  aristocratic  idea  has  a  founda- 
tion  in  justice  and  the  well-being  of  man.  The 
best  ought  to  rule ;  the  best  ought  to  set  the 


714^  True  Aristocracy.         147 


mplies  that 
most  every 
terfeit;  and 
n  in  human 
nt  counter- 
\  or  custom, 
•ily  a  politi- 
reek  words, 
"power;  " 
the  rule  of 
ocracy"  as 
le  best  men 
f  adds  con- 
d  very  rarer 
en  Jonson's 


»tthem 

a  privileged 
eriority  and 
nrtue  of  an 

consequent 

\a&  a  founda» 
f  man.  The 
lit  to  set  the 


pattern  of  living  to  the  multitude.    And  un- 
doubtedly, at  some  times,  there  has  been   an 
approach  to  the  realization  of  this  idea.    There 
have  been  prophetic  moments  in  the  history  of 
various  nations  when  the  best  did  rule;  when 
those  who  were  fittest  in  intelligence  and  char- 
acter gave  the  law  politically  and  socially  to  the 
masses.    But  often  the  "  best "  has  meant  sim- 
ply the  strongest  or  the  most  crafty,  or  the  rich- 
est and  proudest.    Then  the  aristocrats,  instead 
of  the  best,  were  really  the  worst,  because  they 
used  their  larger  intelligence    and  power  for 
selfish  ends  and  in  tyrannous  ways.    History 
tells  us  how  the  aristocracy  in  many  lands  be- 
came an  arrogant  and  exclusive  caste  founded 
on  circumstances  of  birth  and  inheritance,  and 
allied  itself  with  the  worst  forms  of  despotism. 
Such  was  the  case,  for  example,  in  France 
a:  .ecedent  to  the  Revolution.     Aristocracy,  as 
»i  specific  form  of  government,  has  been  rare  and 
transitory ;  but  as  a  caste  it  has  been  well-nigh 
universal.    In  its  radical  sense  it  is  not  incon- 
sistent with  democracy,  for  in  a  wise  democracy 
the  best  will  be  chosen  by  the  people  to  admin- 
ister the  government     But  the  term  "aristoc- 
racy" has  beor^me  almost  inseparably  associated 
with  the  idea  of  a  privileged  and  usually  a  titled 
class  in  which  were  fostered  notions  diat  are 


■■-^^^^•■:''t:^) 


148  The  Aim  of  Life, 

inimical  to  democracy,  and,  indeed,  to  a  broad 
humanity.      In   America,  where   there    is   no 
titled  class  called  "the  nobility,"  the  aristo- 
cratic idea  has  survived,  and  has  produced  classes     ( 
that  claim  superiority  on  the  ground  of  various 
distinctions, -for  example,  on  the  ground  of     ,, 
certain  social  traditions  handed  down  through 
several  generations,  or  on  actual  or  imaginary 
descent  from  a  "  noble  "  family  of  the  Old  World, 
or  on  inherited  wealth  and  the  social  eminence 
which  the  possession  of  money  gives.    In  the 
Southern  States  the  aristocratic  idea  was  joined 
with  the  assumed  right  to  own  slaves.    Some- 
times,  also,  there  have  appeared  aristocratic  pre- 
tensions based  on  political  position  and  service, 
the  worst  form  of  the  aristocratic  idea  is  that 
which  rests  solely,  or  mainly,  on  the  distinction 
of  large  wealth.     This  form  has  become  the 
most  serious  menace'  of  free  popular  govern- 
ment   In  our  daily  speech  we  hear  the  omi- 
nous terms,  "railroad kings,"  and  "coal barons, 
and  the  like.    But  I  do  not  propose  now  to  dis- 
cuss  the  relation  of  the  aristocratic  idea  to  civil 

government. 

The  word  "aristocracy"  expresses  a  true 
and  valuable  idea.  As  the  rule  of  the  best,  it 
takes  its  place  among  the  lofty  ideals  of  the 
individual  and  of  society.     The  true  idea  of 


-rssr^vSJMfgS! 


1 1  III  HI  I  ngiMiUMiiiiiiiirffifniiiif 


,  to  a  broad 
:here    is   no 
the  aristo- 
luced  classes     i 
id  of  various 
e  ground  of 
own  through 
or  imaginary 
e  Old  World, 
:ial  eminence 
ives.    In  Uie 
ea  was  joined 
aves.    Some- 
istocratic  pre- 
1  and  service. 
ic  idea  is  that 
:he  distinction 
J  become  the 
pular  govern- 
hear  the  omi- 
"  coal  barons," 
)se  now  to  dis- 
ic  idea  to  civil 

»resses  a   true 

of  the  best,  it 

'  ideals  of  the 

,e  true  idea  of 


The  True  Aristocracy.         149 

aristocracy  is  the  primitive  idea  raised  to  the 
high  level  of  Christian  morality.    It  is  the  pos- 
session and  exercise  of  power  by  the  best.    The 
best  are  the  most  capable,  the  most  generous, 
the  wisest,  and  the  purest.    Such  ought  to  rule ; 
such  ought  to  wield  the  great  formative  and  guid- 
ing forces  of  human  society.    This  is  but  saying 
that  the  progress  of  man  is  toward  the  suprem- 
acy of  truth  and  goodness,  and  the  ideal  of  soci- 
ety is  the  Kingdom  of  God.    There  is  a  deep 
and  prophetic  insight  in  Carlyle's  words:     All 
that  Democracy  ever  meant    lies   there:   the 
attainment  of  a  truer  and  truer  Aristocracy,  or 
government  by  the.5«/." 

The  rule  of  the  best  implies  the  prevalence 
of  righteousness,  or  the  love  of  God  and  the 
love  of  man.  in  all  who  direct  the  course  of 
human  thought  and  conduct.     The  best  are  the 
holiest,  -that  is,  the  most  nearly  whole  in  all 
that  constitutes  true  manhood.     The  rulership 
which  these  are  to  exercise  is  not  the  rulership 
of  mere  power;  nor  is  it  dependent  on  material 
means  and  forces,  as  of  riches  and  armies.  -  but 
it  is  the  rulership  of  moral  influence  mhenng 
in  moral  excellence.     In  one  word,  it  is  a 
rulership  of   service.     The   highest    idea  of 
excellence  that  man  has  ever  attained  has  come 
to  him  concretely  expressed  in  the  person  of 


mtmmm^lflf 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


150 

Jesus  Christ.     He  was  recognized  by  his  dis- 
ciples,    he    is    recognized  by  ever-increasing 
numbers  of  men,  as  the  rightful  Teacher  and 
Lord ;  and  no  ideal  does  Jesus  more  completely 
fill  than  that  of  the  Great  Servant.     His  testi- 
mony was :  "  I  came  not  to  be  ministered  unto 
but  to  minister. "    The  ideas  of  God  which  men 
have  cherished  illustrate  the  progress  of  men  in 
moral  perception.     Of  old  the  dominant  ele- 
ment in  the  idea  of  God  was  power.     Taught 
by  Jesus  Christ,  we  perceive  that  the  domi- 
nant element  in  the  true  idea  of  God  is  love; 
and  service  is  the  expression  of  love,  or  love 
in  action.     God  is  the  supreme  Aristocrat, 
and  His  rule  is  the  rule  of  the  absolutely  best. 
God  does  not  rule  men  by  mere  Almightiness, 
but  by  goodness ;  His  government  over  moral 
beings  is  a  ministration  of  service.     Christ's 
giving  himself  for  the  salvation  of  the  world 
was    the   great   typical    divine   act;    it    was 
revelatory  of  the  whole   divine  method.      It 
was  not  an  exceptional  feature  of  God's  rela- 
tion to  men  save  in  its  form;  it  was  simply 
the  appearance  and  realization  in  time  of  that 
divine  love-nature  and  love-impulse  which  has 
no  limitations  of    time  and   place,   but  was 
"before  the  foundations  of  the  world,"  and 
will  be  when  the  world  has  become  a  memory. 


y  his  dis< 

-increasing 

eacher  and 

completely 

His  testi- 

}tered  unto 

which  men 

s  of  men  in 

ninant  ele- 

r.     Taught 

the  domi- 

od  is  love; 

)ve,  or  love 

Aristocrat, 

>lutely  best. 

mightiness, 

:  over  moral 

e.     Christ's 

)f  the  world 

ct ;    it    was 

aethod.      It 

God's  rela- 

was  simply 

time  of  that 

le  which  has 

:e,   but  was 

wrorld,"  and 

e  a  memory. 


L-Vt:'«'.Ss.'i*i>iiL-i»t>?3I'-i'--.. 


■■a!B!l«»WMlMBaW'lM»»BWMlll»«l)IHI.H»t|»lMMt^S^^ 


uiir^i 


IS 


rififi 


The  True  Aristocracy.  151 

With  this  self-sacrifice  all  of  Christ's  teachings 
and  actions  are  consonant.  In  Him  we  have 
set  before  us  both  the  elements  and  the  legiti- 
mate uses  of  true  power.  To  be  good  is  to  be 
mighty;  to  rule  is  to  serve.  The  escutcheon 
of  the  Prince  of  Wales  bears  the  motto,  Ich 
dien,  I  serve.  That  is  the  fundamental  idea  of 
real  kingship.  The  worth  of  power  Her  'n  its 
subjection  to  the  behests  of  holy  love  .mnip- 
otence  even  has  value  only  as  it  is  the  invest- 
ment of  absolute  goodness.  Jesus  Christ  was 
the  mightiest  of  men  because  he  was  the  best 
of  men,  —  because  he  was  pre-eminently  the 
servant.  He  said  to  his  disciples,  after  an 
illustrative  act  of  humblest  service :  "  Ye  call 
me  Teacher  and  Lord ;  and  ye  say  well,  for  so 
I  am.  If  I,  then,  your  Lord  and  Teacher,  have 
washed  your  feet,  ye  also  ought  to  wash  one 
another's  feet."  If  the  lowest  form  of  service 
is  characteristic  of  the  divine  manhood  of 
Jesus,  much  more  is  the  highest  form,  which 
has  its  striking  symbol  in  the  cross.  We  are 
apt,  from  very  reverence,  to  push  ofif  into  a 
realm  apart  the  culminating  act  of  jesus's 
ministry  to  the  world,  his  self-sacrifice  on 
Calvary,  and  separate  it,  in  our  thoughts,  from 
the  realm  of  example  and  instruction;  but 
Jesus  is  nowhere   SQ   eiitpr^^sly  and   impres- 


iV 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


152 

sively  the  Teacher  and  Lord  of  men  as  in  that 
act  by  which  he  lays  down  his  life  for  the 
world.  The  apostle  argues  rightly  that  we 
ought  also  to  lay  down  our  lives  for  our  fellow- 
men.  The  sacrifice  of  Jesus  is  more  than  a 
mystery  for  the  contemplation  of  adoring  faith ; 
it  is  a  formula  for  daily  living.  The  history 
of  the  personalities  whose  service  to  humanity 
has  brightened  and  bettered  the  world  through 
all  the  centuries,  as  well  as  the  life  and  teach- 
ing of  Jesus,  make  plain  the  truth  that  the 
constitutive  elements  of  real  greatness  are 
moral,  that  goodness  alone  is  true  power,  and 
that  sovereignty  and  service  are  not  anti- 
thetical but  correlative  terms. 

Men  aspire  for  greatness,  and  crave  power; 
they  seek  pre-eminence  among  their  fellow- 
men  ;  and  Jesus  and  the  saints  of  all  ages  say 
to  them:  "Whoever  wishes  to  become  great 
among  you  shall  be  your  minister;  and  who- 
ever wishes  to  be  first  among  you  shall  be  your 
servant."  In  these  words  is  expressed  the  true 
idea  of  aristocracy,  —the  best  rule,  because  the 
best  serve.  Selfishness  prompts  continually  to 
self-service,  but  selfishnses  can  never  achieve 
greatness,  nor  can  it  be  enduringly  power- 
ful. From  the  spiritual  point  of  view  Satan 
is  the  embodiment  of  irremediable  weakness. 


ii-^»  '.■ij.fff  y^"*'  '^'  M»i»i|aNMfciiii*i 


I  as  in  that 
ife  for  the 
iy  that  we 
our  fellow- 
(lore  than  a 
oring  faith ; 
rhe  history 
3  humanity 
rid  through 
and  teach* 
th  that  the 
:atness  are 
power,  and 
I  not    anti- 

•ave  power; 
leir  fellow- 
all  ages  say 
;come  great 
■;  and  who- 
liall  be  your 
sed  the  true 
because  the 
ntinually  to 
iver  achieve 
igly  power- 
view  Satan 
e  weakness. 


Tfa  True  Aristocracy.         153 

The  apostle  says  that  Jesus  Christ  was  mani- 
fested to  destory  the  Devil  and  all  his  works ; 
and  is  not  the  process  of  destruction  going  on 
in  the  increasing  recognition  by  men  of  the 
truth  inat  selfishness  is  weakness,  and  only 
love  is  indestructible  and  invincible? 

We  have  now  got  our  point  of  view.     The 

true  aristocracy  is  composed  of  those  who  have 

attained,  or  who  aspire  to,  eminence  in  power 

to  serve  their  fellow-men  according  to  the  spirit 

and  law  of  Jesus  Christ.     To  this  aristocracy 

belong  all  who  have  mastered  the  selfishness 

that  is  the  bane  of  human  life,  and,  in  whatever 

sphere  they  may  labpr,  make  all  their  work 

beneficent  by  animating  it  with  a  purpose  to 

do  good  to  the  world.     The  fundamental  idea 

of  the  false  aristocracy  is,  that  service  to  self 

is  the  legitimate  and  chief  object  of  desire 

and  endeavor.    "  Other  men  may  serve ;  I  must 

be  served.    Other  men  may  toil ;  I  must  receive 

the  fruits  of  their  toil.    Other  men  may  suffer; 

I  must  have  pleasure  and  immunity  from  care." 

In  its  subtler  forms  the  false  aristocratic  spirit 

manifests  itself  in  contempt  for  poverty  and 

plainness  of  person  and  dress,  in  scorn  af  the 

simple,  common  relations  and  pleasures  of  life, 

and  in  disregard  of  the  more  robust  jrirtues. 

It  is  marked  by  a  pride  that,  assuming  to  be 


■ 


1 54  The  Aim  of  Life. 

noble,  is  often  cruel.     It  measures  men  and 
women,  not  by  their  own  real  worth,  but  by  the 
accident  of  birth,  or  position,  or  possessions; 
and  it  counts  the  bronzed  face  and  toil-worn 
hand  and   ill-cut  coat  as  marks  of  a  lower 
order      Often  in  the  Old-World  aristocracies 
there  was  something  genuinely  noble;  for  with 
eminence  of    station  was  joined  eminence  in 
generosity,  and  chivalrous  regard  for  the  happi- 
ness and  well-being  of  the  humble     A  true 
nobility  coined  the  phrase  noblesse  oblige.     But 
the  aristocracy  of  mere  wealth  has  often  been 
marked    by  a  spirit    that  was    arrogant  and 

selfish.  .    ,,«.«*. 

The  question  of  real  importance  is  not :  What 
are  your  antecedents;   what  are  your  social 
connections;  or  what  are  you  worth?    But, 
what  are  you  in  quality  of  mind  and  heart,  in 
purpose  and   aim?    You  may  be  the  son   or 
daughter  of  "a  hundred  earls;"  you  may  walk 
in  the  most  brilliant  circles  of  fashion;  you 
may  have  the  wealth  of  a  Rothschild  or  a 
Gould,  -but  if  you  have  not  truth  and  honor 
and,  above  all.  love  for  your  Jellow-men   the 
humblest  soul  that  lives  not  tor  self  but  for 
humanity  and  God  takes  rank  above  you.    The 
spirit  of  Jesus  Christ  puts  on  a  man  the  mark 
of  a  finer  distinction  than  even  the  most  splen- 


Th$  True  Aristocracy. 


155 


es  men   and 
h,  but  by  the 

possessions ; 
ind  toil-worn    ' 

of  a  lower 

aristocracies 
ble ;  for  with 

eminence  in 
for  the  happi- 
ible.  A  true 
e  oblige.  But 
as  often  been 
arrogant  and 

;  is  not :  What 
e  your  social 

worth?    But, 

and  heart,  in 
)e  the  son  or 
you  may  walk 

fashion;  you 
(thschild  or  a 
ruth  and  honor 
sllow-men,  the 
)r  self  but  for 
)ove  you.    The 

man  the  mark 
the  most  splen- 


did genius.  The  mn  11  or  woman  who  has  most 
fully  developed  the  disposition  and  capacity  to 
serve,  belongs  to  God's  nobility. 

Springing  out  of  the  true  idea  of  aristocracy 
—  that  it  is  the  rule  of  the  best,  that  the  best 
are  the  good,  and  that  their  rulership  is  emi- 
nence in  service  —  are  several  practical  thoughts 
to  which  I  ask  your  serious  attention. 

I.    The   true   aristocrat   is    not  as/tamed  to 
work     By  many  labor  is  deemed  essentially 
ignoble. -especially  if  it  be  manual   labor; 
but  man  was  created  for  action  and  achieve- 
ment.    The  Hebrew  law-giver,  in  the  simple 
and    massive   legislation  which  his    inspired 
mind  devised  for  the  government  of  his  people, 
said:  "Six  days  shalt  thou  labor  and  do  all 
thy  work."    The  command  was  positive,  not 
merely  negative.     The  prohibition  of  labor  on 
the  seventh  day  was  not  the  whole  statute.     A 
people  just  emancipated  from  bondage,  under 
which  they  had  suffered  from  an  excess  erf  toil, 
needed  a  check  raised  against  the  natural  reac- 
tion which    freedom  would    induce.     Order, 
government,  and  civilization  could  arise  only 
among  a  people   incited    and   disciplined  to 
voluntary  labor.     Most  who  read  this  old  com- 
mand see  only  the  prohibition.     Labor  is  not 
a  curse  but  a  blessing.     The  spirit  of  the 


\^' 


156 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


Mosaic  precept  is  always  mamfest  in  the  alive 
and  growing  man.     Brain  and  hands  find  the 
world  a  workshop;   all   Nature  is   a  store  of 
materials.    He  who  has  not  learned  to  do  some 
useful  task,  and  has  not  developed  some  profit- 
able  skill,  is  deficient  in  the  first  and  simplest 
art  of  living.     Man  is  the  creator  or  producer 
or  fashioner.     Even  the  poet  is  called  m  the 
old  Greek  tongue  wo»»}ti,9,  the  maker    \Axvxn^ 
reprobation  has  always  rested  on  the  indo  ent ; 
he  is  the  unprofitable   servant  who  is     cast 
into  outer  darkeness."  out  of  the  bright  circle 
of  those  who  know  the  joy  of  happy  toil.    Lazi- 
ness is  the  primitive  and  least  respectable,  or 
rather,  most  contemptible,  form  of  selfishness. 
There  always  have  been  those  who  claimed, 
or  at  least  assumed,  the  right  to  subsist  on  the 
labor  of  others.    That  claim  often  has  been  a 
prime  article  in  the  creed  of  titled  nob.hties 
It  underlay  the  pretensions  and  practices  of 
slavemr  and  of  political  despotism.     Its  funda- 
mental source  is  not  the  circumstances  of  a 
particular  age.  or  the  character  of  a  particular 
civilization,    but    human    selfishness.      It     s 
simply  the  demand  for  service  to  self  at  what- 
ever  cost  to  others,  and  is  both  ignoble  and 
wicked;  for  it  is  a  practical  denial  of  the  obli- 
gation which  God  has  laid  upon  every  man  to 
be  a  doer  of  that  which  is  good. 


In  the  alive 
nds  find  the 
s  a  store  of 
d  to  do  some 
,  some  profit- 
and  simplest 
■  or  producer 
called  in  the 
et.  A  divine 
the  indolent; 
who  is  "cast 

bright  circle 
py  toil.    Lazi- 
sspectable,  or 
)f  selfishness, 
who  claimed, 
subsist  on  the 
en  has  been  a 
led  nobilities, 
i  practices  of 
n.     Its  funda- 
mstances  of  a 
jf  a  particular 
hness.      It    is 

0  self  at  what- 
h  ignoble  and 
ial  of  the  obli- 

1  every  man  to 
)d. 


The  True  Aristocracy.  157 

Christianity  affirms  both   the  duty  and  the 
dignity  of   labor.     "  If  a  man  will  not  work, 
neither    shall    he    eat."      "We    are    workers 
together  with  God."     The  tasks  of  men  take 
rank  from  their  comparative  beneficence,  but 
the  real  dignity  of  labor  derives  from  the  spirit 
and  motive  of  the  worker.     It  is  noble  to  be  a 
factor  in  the  great   productive   enterprises  of 
the  world;  it  is  noble  to  be  a  toiler,  however 
humble  the  task.     I  have  stood  sometimes  on 
the  street-corner  in  the  evening,  and  watched 
the  troops  of  workmen  returning  home  fr.  m 
factories  and  mills  after  the  day's  work   .as 
done.     Their   clothes  often  were   coarse  and 
soiled,  and  their  hands  and  faces  begrimed 
with  smoke  and  dirt ;  but  in  their  solid,  patiei.i 
industry  I  saw  a  higher  patent  of  nobility  than 
any  that  the  haughtiest   count  or  lord  who 
lounges  his  life  away  in  the  salons  of  Pans  or 
London  can  boast.     There  is  far  more  manli- 
ness in  the  brawny  hand  that  comes  calloused 
and  scarred  from  honest  toll  in  the  iron-mui 
than  in  the  bejewelled  and  immaculate  fingers 
of  the  perfumed  exquisite  who  through  the  for- 
tune of  inheritance,  perhaps,  is  not  compelled 
to  work  for  his  bread,  and  will  not  work  for 
anything  else.     But  the  dignity  of  labor  does 
not  belong  specially  to  manual  labor;  it^elongs 


.P'' 


1^8 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


to  all  honest,  productive  work,  whether  of  hand 
or  brain,  though  it  is  manual  labor  of  which 
men  are  more  often  ashamed,  and  which  they 
more  readily  despise. 

Be  workers,  then,  in  some  strong  and  earn- 
est way.  Make  your  days  stand  for  something 
done.  Neither  heaven  nor  earth  has  any  place 
for  the  drone;  he  is  a  libel  on  his  species.  No 
glamour  of  wealth  or  social  prestige  can  hide 
his  essential  ugliness.  It  is  better  to  carry  a 
hod  or  wield  a  shovel  in  honest  endeavor  to  be 
of  some  use  to  humanity,  than  to  be  nursed  in 
luxury  and  be  a  parasite. 

"  Think  that  day  lost  whose  low  descending  sun 
^  Views  from  thy  hand  no  noble  action  done." 

2.  The  true  aristocrat  is  ashamed  to  do  that 
which  is  low  and  mean.  He  will  be  honest  not 
to  the  letter  of  the  law,  but  to  the  level  of  his 
conscience.  He  will  not  poison  his  service  to 
humanity,  whatever  vocation  he  may  fill,  by 
anything  that  is  obnoxious  to  the  finest  sense  of 
honor.  There  is  often  in  the  practical  morals 
of  men,  as  in  money,  a  double  standard:  the 
one  is  gold;  the  other  is  silver  or  brass  or 
even  clay.  What  I  mean  is  just  this :  the  true 
man  always  does  his  best  work,  and  always  gives 
full  weight.    How  often    men    measure   their 


itM)MiMfc 


.ijsKiamasms ..  is!Kg^'6iimiu<iKm^)'i* 


Lether  of  hand 
libor  of  which 
which  they 

>ng  and  earn- 
for  something 
has  any  place 
t  species.  No 
tige  can  hide 
ter  to  carry  a 
indeavor  to  be 
>  be  nursed  in 


ending  sun 
>n  done." 

ned  to  do  that 
be  honest  not 
le  level  of  his 
his  service  to 
;  may  fill,  by 
finest  sense  of 
actical  morals 
standard :  the 
*  or  brass  or 
this:  the  true 
d  always  gives 
measure   their 


■^-sBetittMMiiiMamm 


The  True  Aristocracy.  159 

obligation  by  their  opportunity  to  evade  the 
strict  demands  of  righteousness !  Their  service 
to  their  fellow-men  takes  its  quality  not  from 
their  own  pure  pt  .rpose,  but  from  the  condition, 
the  knowledge,  or  the  power  of  appreciation  of 
those  whom  they  serve.  For  one  man  they  do 
their  best,  for  another  they  do  less,  saying: 
"Anything  is  good  enough  for  him."  How 
,  many  times  we  take  mean  advantages  of  our 
fellow-rnen,  and  sometimes  grow  so  blind  that 
we  think  to  take  a  mean  advantage  of  God,  — 
like  those  degenerate  Hebrews  whom  the 
prophet  rebuked,  who  offered  in  sacrifice  the 
weak  and  the  sick  and  the  lame  of  their  flocks. 
The  highest  ethical  standard  in  the  world  is  that 
of  a  genuine  and  deep  love  for  man;  and  the 
true  man  looks  not  to  the  law  nor  to  the  defec- 
tive ideas  and  partial  opinions  of  his  fellows,  but 
to  the  claims  of  love  for  the  gauge  and  standard 
of  his  service.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  respect- 
able meanness  in  the  world;  you  may  find  it 
even  among  those  who  profess  to  be  Christians. 
It  is  the  meanness  of  trading  on  appearances  of 
devotion  to  the  good  of  men  for  the  sake  of  pri- 
vate gain.  The  gain  sought  may  be  money,  for 
there  are  those  like  the  hypocrite  whom  Tenny- 
son etches  with  caustic :  — 


■  '^'■-^-.-iiiiibi 


lii&ii. 


ft 


1 60  The  Aim  of  Life. 

^       «  Who  never  naming  God  except  for  gun, 
'^  So  never  took  that  useful  name  in  v^ ; 

Made  Him  his  cat's-paw,  and  the  cross  his  tool, 
And  Christ  his  b^t  to  trap  the  dupe  and  fool.' 

Alas,  alas,  to  what  depths  of  contemptible 
iniquity  does  selfishness  sometimes  sink  the 
soul  of  man !  The  Pharisee  boasts  of  his  tithe- 
giving,  while  he  "  devours  widows'  houses,  and 
for  a  pretence  makes  long  prayers."  The  man 
who  wrongs  you  most,  does  it  under  cover  of 
doing  you  a  benefit. 

True  service  rises  far  above  this  fog-bank  of 
deceitful  and  pretentious  selfishness,  and  makes 
its  contribution  to  the  good  of  men  in  the  dear 
sunlight  of  honest,  high-minded  love. 

"  Be  what  thou  seemest ;  Uve  thy  creed ; 
Let  the  great  Master's  steps  be  thine." 

Serve  men  without  pretence;,  true  love  is  as 
honest  as  God's  sunshine.  It  can  never  stoop 
to  the  low  plane  of  Ananias,  who  pledges  all 
and  secretly  withholds  a  part  of  the  offering. 

3.  The  true  aristocrat  is  generous  and  chival- 
rous to  the  weak  and  the  poor.  It  was  an  emi- 
nent distinction  of  Jesus  that  he  preached  the 
gospel  to  the  poor.  And  the  gospel  that  he 
preached  was  not  a  message  of  mere  patroniz- 
ing pity  and  ostentatious  benevolence ;   it  was 


TX!ii"-n 


S^WftJSSSSIlEBU 


igjfftfg    •^g-'w^^^itaf^g^" 


I'tfEi-^JSW'?. '?*•**'■**■*'*•■*'" 


r'^'^'Tiiii 


|gain, 
ain; 

ss  his  tool, 
and  fool." 

contemptible 
nes  sink  the 
s  of  his  tithe- 
s' houses,  and 
s."  The  man 
nder  cover  of 

is  fog-bank  of 
ss,  and  makes 
n  in  the  clear 
>ve. 

creed; 
I  thine." 

true  love  is  as 
in  never  stoop 
ho  pledges  all 
he  offering. 
>us  and  chival- 
[t  was  an  emi- 
:  preached  the 
[ospel  that  he 
mere  patroniz- 
olence;   it  was 


>lMnnas>E!M!ll«MtovM«MalMMM 


The  True  Aristocracy.  i6i 

the  love  of  Goc  for  men,  and  His  Universal 
Fatherhood,  which  instantly  dignified  the  hum- 
blest soul  with  the  consciousness  and  the  pre- 
rogatives of  a  divine  sonship.  He  went  to 
publicans  and  sinners;  he  made  his  home 
among  the  lowly.  To  him  the  distinctions  of 
wealth  and  rank  had  absolutely  no  weight. 
Was  there  ever  so  complete  a  leveller?  And 
for  the  most  wretched  he  had  no  faintest  air  of 
contempt  Wherever  he  found  a  human  soul, 
there  he  found  a  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

The  true  follower  of  the  Great  Servant  will  love 
humanity  apart  from  the  accidents  of  place  and 
possession.  His  heart  wIU  be  utterly  void  of 
arrogance  and  scorn';  he  \7ill  recognize  man- 
hood and  womanhood  beneath  the  disguises  of 
poverty  or  of  wealth.  He  will  be,  not  patroniz- 
ing, but  gently  gracious  and  helpful  to  the  poor. 
He  wUl  not  judge,  but  shield  and  pity  the  erring. 
He  will  be  chivalrous  to  woman  in  whatever 
station  he  finds  her,  and  though  she  be  fallen 
and  ruined  will  cover  her  very  sins  with  the 
mantle  of  his  charity.  The  Christian  man  is 
ever  the  gentleman.  Love  is  ever  magnani- 
mous ;  the  spirit  of  service  is  a  spirit  of  essen- 
tial nobleness.  How  pitiful  often  are  the  religious 
ideals  of  men  who,  whatever  their  professions, 
have  not  learned  of  Jesus  Christ.    Tlfeir  piety 

II 


mmmmm> 


BSHMBlUlM-i!' 


L^ 


162  The  Aim  of  Life. 

is  inflated  with  pride ;  their  charity  is  deformed 
with  condescension;  their  benevolence  is  poi- 
soned with  vanity;  their  viitue  is  marred  with 
cynicism;  their  very  love  is  polluted  with  a 
strain  of  the  mercenary  spirit  To  how  many 
even  religion  has  not  been  a  pathway  to  the 
true  nobility;  for  true  nobility  is  reached  only 
by  that  love  every  pulse  of  which  is  unselfish 

service. 

Young  men  and  women,  there  is  an  aristoc- 
racy which  abides.    No  revolutions  can  over- 
turn it;    no  progress  of  the  species  can  carry 
us  beyond  it;    no  attainments  can  out-rank  its 
fine  and  pure  distinction,  —  it  is  the  aristocracy 
of  brave,  true,  unselfish  service  to  your  fellow- 
beings  in  the  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ.    Strive  to 
enter  into  that  noble  order  and  fellowship.     Let 
your  aim  in  life  be  not  to  get,  but  to  give ;  not 
to  squeeze  out  of  every  circumstance  and  situa- 
tion and  opportunity  some  benefit  for  yourselves.- 
but  rather  to  make  every  pulsation  of  your  beat- 
ing hearts  tributary  to  the  increase  of  human 
knowledge  and  comfort  and  peace.    Work  as 
those  sent  into  the  world  with  a  sacred  commis- 
sion to  do  some  worthy  task;    work  as  those 
who  see  in  all  toil  the  sphere  of  a  high  conse- 
cration to  noble  ends;   work  as  those  who  bear 
within  them  a  divinely  human  susceptibility  to 


is  deformed 
ence  is  poi- 
narred  with 
ited  with  a 
»  how  many 
iway  to  the 
eached  only 
is  unselfish 

}  an  aristoc- 
is  can  over- 
;s  can  carry 
out-rank  its 
5  aristocracy 
your  fellow- 
It.    Strive  to 
owship.     Let 
to  give;  not 
ice  and  situa- 
or  yourselves,* 
of  your  beat- 
se  of  human 
:e.    Work  as 
cred  commis- 
rork  as  those 
I  high  conse- 
ose  who  bear 
sceptibility  to 


The  True  Aristccracy. . 

every  cry  of  want  and  every  plea  of  sorrow  and 
pain.  Take  not  the  slave  of  ambition,  not  the 
victim  of  self-indulgent  passion,  not  the  scramb- 
ler for  position  and  power,  not  the  mere  gold- 
seeker  and  pleasure-seeker  for  your  model,  but 
take  the  pure  and  chivalrous  and  merciful  and 
manly  and  holy  and  divine  Christ,—  the  servant 
of  servants,  the  Son  of  God,  — who  might  have 
grasped  a  world,  and  chose  a  cross  that  by  his 
cross  he  might  reconcile  all  men  unto  God, 
through  the  power  of  self-sacrifice  and  uncon- 
querable love. 

"  Since  sendee  ia  the  highest  lot, 
And  all  are  in  one  body  bound. 
In  all  the  world  the  place  is  not 
Which  may  not  with  this  bliss  be  crowned. 

"  The  lonely  glory  of  a  throne 

May  yet  this  lowly  joy  preserve; 
Love  may  make  that  a  stepping-stone, 
And  raise ' I  reign '  into  '  I  serve. '" 


EDUCATION. 


H«w  the  block  off,  and  get  out  the  man.  —  Pope. 
The  true  purpose  of  education  is  to  cherish  and  unfold  the 
■eed  of  immortality  already  sown  within  us.  —  Mrs.  Jameson. 
The  fruit  of  liberal  education  is  not  learning,  but  the  capa- 
city and  desire  to  Ittam ;  not  knowledge,  but  power.  — C.  W. 
Eliot. 

There  is  no  busine  ■  nc  avocation  whatever,  which  ^rtll  not 
permit  a  man  who  has  the  inclination,  to  give  a  little  time, 
every  day,  to  study.— Daniel  Wittenbach. 

Education  keeps  the  key  of  life ;  and  a  libei-al  education 
insures  the  first  conditions  of  freedom,  —  namely,  adequate 
knowledge  and  accustomed  thought.  —Julia  Wakd  Howe. 

A  wise  man  knows  an  ignorant  one,  because  he  has  been 
ignorant  himself;  but  the  ignorant  cannot  recognize  the  wise, 
because  he  has  never  been  wise.— />■««•  the  Ptrsim. 

I  shall  detain  you  no  longer  in  the  demonstration  of  what 
we  should  not  do,  but  strait  conduct  ye  to  a  hillside,  where  I 
will  point  ye  out  the  right  path  of  a  virtuous  and  noble  educa- 
tion; laborious  indeed  at  the  first  ascent,  but  also  so  smooth, 
so  green,  so  full  of  good<y  prospect,  and  melodious  sounds 
on  every  ride,  that  the  harp  of  Orpheus  was  not  more 
charming.  —  MiltoH. 

Wisdom  is  the  principal  thing;  therefore  get  wisdom,  and 
with  all  thy  getting,  get  understanding.  —  Provtrbt  «f  SolomoH. 

"IX/HAT  is  education?      How  shall   educa- 
^^      tion  be   achieved?     These   two  ques- 
tions lie  at  the  threshold  of  every  serious  and 


wmiammm:^' 


Education. 


165 


■  Pops. 

i  and  unfold  the 
-  Mrs.  Jameson. 

ig,  but  the  aii»- 
:  power. 


•C.  W. 


ir,  which  will  not 

ive  a  little  time, 

t. 

liberal  education 

namely,  adequate 

L  Wakd  Howb. 

luse  he  has  been 
cognize  the  wise, 
Ptrtian. 

Bstration  of  what 
hillside,  where  I 
I  and  noble  educa- 
t  also  so  smooth, 
melodious  sounds 
ui  was  not   more 

I  get  wisdom,  and 
Vovtrbs  0/Selomom. 

shall  educa- 
se  two  ques- 
ry  serious  and 


aspiring  life.  Upon  the  answer  to  these  ques- 
tions which  each  one  gives,  not  in  theory  only, 
but  in  practice,  depends  the  degree  of  his  power, 
the  quality  of  his  character,  and  the  measure  of 
his  real  success  in  life. 

I.  What  is  education?     It  is  not  merely  the 
acquirement  and  possession  of  knowledge.  Many 
people  think  that  a  man  who  has  read  many 
books  is  therefore  educated,  and  that  he  who  has 
read  few  is  therefore  uneducated.     If  one  has 
been  through  a  course  of  study  in  college ;  if  he 
knows  somewhat  of  Latin  and  Greek,  or  French 
and  German ;  if  he  can  quote  from  Aristotle  and 
Plato,  or  Bacon  and  Kant,— he  is  considered  to 
be  educated;  meanwhile  the  truth  is  that  one 
can  do  all  this  and  yet  not  be  educated  in  any 
just  and  large  sense  of  the  word.     Learning 
and  education  are  not  synonymous;  the  one 
does  not  necessarily  involve  the  other  except  to  a 
limited  degree.      Learning— that  is,  the  posses- 
sion of  the  material  of  knowledge—  is  not  only 
important  but  of  extreme  value,  yet  one  may 
lack  what  is  technically  known  as  learning,  and 
be  truly  educated ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  a 
man  may  be  loaded  with  learning,  and  seriously 
deficient  in  real  education.    The  sneer  some- 
times heard  about "  learned  fools  "  is  not  wholly 
without  point   and    reason.    There    are    men 


.w^f-;SJ'«^'i5-<'-^l*S^ 


i66  The  Aim  of  Life, 

possessed  of  encyclopedic  learning  who  are 
almost  devoid  of  those  essential  elements  or 
products  of  true  education,  wisdom  and  com- 
mon-sense. 

No  great  structural  idea  has  grown  more,  or 
by  its  growth  has  more  significantly  marked 
the  progress  of  the  human  species,  than  the 
idea  of  education;  yet  it  must  be  confessed 
that  in  minds  of  the  first  order  the  growth  has 
been  mainly  along  the  line  of  method.  The 
true  aim  of  education  was  grasped  early,  and 
expressed  in  terms  which  it  is  difficult  to 
improve  upon  even  now. 

The  ancient  Persians  trained  their  youth  in 
regard  for  the  truth,  veneration  for  parents, 
respect  for  the  laws,  and  skill  in  the  use  of 
weapons.     Their  system  of  education  is  thus 
laconically  described  by  Herodotus:    "From 
the  age  of  five  to  that  of  twenty  they  teach 
their  children  three  things  alone,  —  to  manage 
a  horse,  to  use  the  bow  with  dexterity,  and  to 
speak  the  truth."     The  Greeks,  who  were  the 
first  to  develop  a  science  of  education,  divided 
their  subjects  of  study  into  music  and  gymnas- 
tics; the  first  included  all  mental,  the  second 
all    physical,   training.     Great  attention  was 
given  to  physical    culture.    Yet   Plato  said, 
"There  is  nothing  of  a  more  divine  nature 


MHa 


g  who  are 
slements  or 
I  and  com- 

wn  more,  or 
)tly  marked 
>s,  than  the 
)e  confessed 

growth  has 
ethod.  The 
d  early,  and 

difficult  to 

leir  youth  in 
for  parents, 
\  the  use  of 
ition  is  thus 
tus :    "  From 
f  they  teach 
—  to  manage 
:erity,  and  to 
who  were  the 
ition,  divided 
and  gymnas- 
1,  the  second 
ittention  was 
:   Plato  said, 
livifte  nature 


Eelucaitou. 

about  which  a  man  can  consult  than  about  the 
training  of  himself,  and  those  who  belong  to 
him;"  and  to  him  education  was  of  so  divme 
a  nature  because   its  end  was  virtue  and  the 
highest  good  of  the  state.     In  his  scheme  of 
political  and  social  organization  he  made  educa- 
tion  compulso^,  thus  anticipating  our  compul- 
sory-education laws  by  more  than  two  thousand 
years.     .Eschines,   a  little  later  than  Plato, 
gave  the  significant  testimony:  "You  are  well 
aware  that  it  is  not  only  by  bodily  exercises, 
by  educational   institutions,  or  by  lessons  in 
music,  that  our  youth  are  trained,  but  much 
more  effectually  by  public  examples." 

The  Romans  also  paid  special  attention  to 
gymnastics,    and  their  scheme  of  study  was 
oratory  and  gymnastics, -oratory  covering  a 
ground  nesrly  co-extensive  with  music  in  the 
Greek   schem*?.      In  all  or  these  cases  — the 
Persian,   Greek,  and  Roman -education  was 
largely  practical,  having  its  end  in  action;  yet 
among  representative  Romans  as  well  as  Greeks 
there  was  a  deeper  idea  of    education  than^ 
appears  on  the  surface  of  their  formal  schemes. 
For   example,  Horace  said:    "The  germs  of 
sinful  desire  are  to  be  rooted  out;  and  minds 
weakened  by  indulgence  must  be  trained  by 
sterner  discipline;"  and  again:  "  It  fs  training 


miimmmm0*>mm!i>!^- 


1 68  The  Aim  of  Life. 

that   improves  the   powers   planted   in  us  by 
Nature,  and  sound  culture  that  is  the  armor  of 
the  breast;    when   moral    training   fails,    the 
noblest  endowments  of  Nature  are  blemished 
and  lost."     Indeed,  the  best  modern  concep- 
tions  of  education  have  been  anticipated  by  the 
best  minds  of  antiquity.     But  the  growth  in 
method  has  been  enormous,  especially  in  recent 
times;  and  with  this  growth  in  method  there 
has  been  also  advance  in  elevation  and  breadth 
of  idea.     In  all  historic  times  some  men  have 
perceived  that  true  education   terminates  not 
on  skill,  but  on  character.     Montaigne,  criti- 
cising the  system  of  education  in  his  day,  the 
middle  third   of  the  sixteenth  century,  says: 
"  It  has  for  its  end,  to  make  us  not  good  and 
wise,  but  learned;  in  this   it  has   succeeded. 
It  has  not  taught  us  to  follow  and  to  embrace 
virtue,   but    it   has    impressed    upon  us    the 
derivation  and  etymology  of  words :  we  know 
how  to  decline  virtue,  if  we  do  not  know  how 
to  love  it;  if  we  do  not  know  what  prudence 
is  by  performance  and   experience,  we  know 
it  by  cant  and  by  rote." 

The  modern  idea  of  education  is  much 
broader  than  the  ancient,  and  is  at  once  more 
philosophical  and  more  scientific.  The  founders 
of  the  Prussian  National  system  define  educa- 


Education. 


169 


in  us  by 
le  armor  of 

fails,    the 

blemished 
rn  concep- 
tated  by  the 

growth  in 
ly  in  recent 
ethod  there 
and  breadth 
e  men  have 
ninates  not 
ligne,  criti- 
lis  day,  the 
itury,  says: 
ot  good  and 

succeeded, 
to  embrace 
pon  us  the 
s:  we  know 
t  know  how 
at  prudence 
s,  we  know 

>n  is  much 
t  once  more 
rhe  founders 
efine  educa- 


tion as  "the  harmonious  and  equable  evolution 
of  the  human  powers."  This  definition  empha- 
sizes the  idea  that  education  is  a  process  not 
of  acquisition  but  of  development;  that  it  is 
not  adding  something  to  faculty,  but  rather  is 
enlarging  faculty  by  Kit.  aci&imilation  of  knowl- 
edge, by  exercise,  ind  by  growth. 

James  Mill,  ex,jressing  the  utilitarian  view, 
said  that  the  end  of  education  is  "to  render 
the  individual,  as  much  as  possible,  an  instru- 
ment of  happiness;  first,  to  himself,  and  next, 
to  other  beings. "  This  is  scarcely  so  much  a 
definition  of  education,  as  a  statement  of  the 
result  at  which  it  is  to  aim;  but  a  definition  is 
implied.  John  Stuart  Mill,  son  of  James  Mill, 
defined  education  as  "  The  culture  which  each 
generation  purposely  gives  to  those  who  are  to 
be  its  successors,  in  order  to  qualify  them  for  at 
least  keeping  up,  and  if  possible  for  raising,  the 
improvement  which  has  been  attained."  This 
definition  apparently  involves  the  element  of 
heredity  as  well  as  direct  training.  Still  bet- 
ter than  either  of  the  preceding  is  this  by 
Daniel  Webster,  in  his  address  to  the  ladies  of 
Richmond:  "The  attainment  of  knowledge 
does  not  comprise  all  which  is  contained  in 
the  larger  term  of  education.  The  feelings  are 
to  be  disciplined;  the  passions  are  to  be  re- 


A 


X^ 


1 70  The  Aim  of  Life, 

strained;  true  and  worthy  motives  are  to  be 
inspired;  a  profound,  religious  feeling  is  to  be 
instilled,  and  pure  morality  inculcated  under 
all  circumstances.  All  this  is  comprised  in 
education." 

In  accordance  with  the  root  idea  of  the  word, 
which   means  to  lead  out,  Worcester  defines 
education  as  "  the  act  of  developing  and  culti- 
vating the  various  physical,  intellectual,  and 
moral  faculties."     More  explicitly    Professor 
Whitney    defines:     "Education,    in  a    broad 
sense,  comprehends  all  that  disciplines  and 
enlightens  the  understanding,  corrects  the  tem- 
per, cultivates  the  taste,  and  forms  the  man- 
ners and  habits;"  and  he  gives  as  an  example 
this  pregnant  passage  from  James    Freeman 
Clarke:  "Education,  in  the  true  sense,  is  not 
mere  instruction  in  Latin,  English,  French,  or 
history.      It    is   the    unfolding  of  the  whole 
human  nature.     It  is  growing  up  in  all  things 
to  our  highest  possibility." 

I  have  quoted  these  numerous  definitions  in 
order  to  illustrate  the  development  of  the 
idea  of  education  and  its  growth  toward 
comprehension  of  the  entire  scope  of  human 

nature. 

It  is  common  to  treat  of  education  in  a 
three-fold  aspect,  corresponding  to  the  three- 


i^* 


s  are  to  be 
ling  is  to  be 
:ated  under 
)mpri8ed   in 

of  the  word, 
ster  defines 
g  and  culti- 
lectual,  and 
y    Professor 
in  a    broad 
:ipUnes  and 
;cts  the  tem- 
ns  the  man- 
I  an  example 
es    Freeman 
sense,  is  not 
\i,  French,  or 
)f  the  whole 
in  all  things 

definitions  in 
ment  of  the 
)wth  toward 
pe  of  human 

ucation  in  a 
to  the  three- 


Education. 


171 


fold  division  of  man  into  body,  mind,  and  spirit ; 
to  educate  is  to  bring  to  the  highest  possible 
perfection  the  physical  organism,  the  mental 
faculties,  and  the  moral  nature.     This  perfec- 
tion is  to  be  approached  through  a  harmonious 
and  continuous  development.     But  a  harmoni- 
ous culture  of  man  does  not  imply  an  equal 
emphasis  on  all  three   lines  of  development; 
the  order  of  importance  is  the  reverse  of  the 
order  of  statement,  —  the  moral  takes  prece- 
dence of  the  intellectual,  and  the  intellectual 
takes  precedence  of  the  physical.     This  pre- 
cedence is  not  temporal  but  essential.     It  is 
neither  right  nor  wise,  in  any  scheme  of  educa- 
tion, to  neglect  the  body ;  but  the  body  may 
easily  demand  too  much  attention.     We  need 
good,  sound   bodies,  for  physical   health  and 
vigor  are  intimately  and  influentially  related 
to  mental  and  even  moral  health  and  vigor; 
but  we  do  not  need  to  be  athletes  in  order  to 
be  well  developed.     The  great  workers  in  the 
world,   the  men   and  women  whose    thought 
rules   an    age    or    shapes  a  civilization,    are 
not  gymnasts:  neither  Plato  nor  Shakespeare 
had  extraordinary  muscles;   Bacon,  I  suppose, 
might  easily  have  been  tossed  over  the  shoul- 
ders of  a  coal-heaver;  John  Wesley  scarcely 
would  have  served  as  a  model  for  a  sculptor  of 


i 


•WTt^T**; 


.1  Garx.n: : - : -  :-w^ .r'TlO •f**'y'^^^'''y'f'l^*''**'^'^ 


.^ 


172 


TAe  Aim  of  Life. 


the  Greek  school.  History  testifies  that  pro- 
gress has  been  achieved,  manners  have  been 
reformed,  virtue  has  been  diffused,  and  civiliza- 
tion  has  been  raised  to  higher  levels,  by  the 
brains  and  hearts  of  men,  by  mental  and  moral 
force ;  and  the  brute  force  of  muscle  has  always 
served,  or,  if  it  has  ruled,  it  has  wrought 
devastation  and  retarded  progress. 

We  cannot  rationally  put  the  cultivation  of 
the  physical  organism  on  a  level  with  the  cul- 
tivation of  mind  and  taste  and  moral  sense. 
Body  is  the  pedestal  and  instrument,  not  the 
equal  and  companion,  much  less  the  master  of 
the  soul. 

With  reference  to  the  body,  then,  a  true 
education  involves  such  care  and  culture  of  the 
physical  system  as  shall  make  it  most  com- 
pletely fit  to  serve  the  spirit.  Any  special 
cultivation  of  the  muscles  rapidly  encroaches 
on  the  proper  development  and  use  of  the 
mind.  It  is  very  rare  that  a  man  can  be  a 
great  athlete  and  at  the  same  time  a  profound 
scholar;  as  the  rule,  the  man  who  swings  a 
pair  of  forty-pound  dumb-bells  will  make  no 
large  contribution  to  the  intellectual  and  moral 
wealth  of  society.  The  truth  is  that  every  one 
has  a  certain  amount  of  vital  force  which  may 
be  increased,  but  only  within  certain  limits; 


wtmmmmmm 


fMiiiiiiHB 


■as 


■wwiniiiiiiiiiifnrii 


es  that  pro- 
have  been 
and  civiliza- 
vels,  by  the 
:al  and  moral 
le  has  always 
has  wrought 
s. 

cultivation  of 
with  the  cul- 
moral  sense, 
nent,  not  the 
the  master  of 

then,  a  true 
culture  of  the 
it  most  com* 

Any  special 
ly  encroaches 
1  use  of  the 
lan  can  be  a 
xie  a  profound 
vho  swings  a 
will  make  no 
:ual  and  moral 
;hat  every  one 
ce  which  may 
ertain  limits; 


EducaHon. 


173 


if  that  vital  force  is  expended  chiefly  in  physi-' 
cal  exercise,  it  cannot,  of  course,  be  devoted 
to  mental  culture  and  work.     Too  much  exer- 
cise interferes  with  the  aims  of  the  thinker  as 
certainly  as  too  little. 

Here,  for  the  present,  we  may  leave  the 
whole  subject  of  physical  culture  with  the  sin- 
gle reflection  that  the  body  demands  such  and 
so  much  attention  as  shall  make  it  the  fittest 
instrument  of  mind  and  soul.  We  neglect  the 
body  at  our  peril ;  we  make  too  much  of  it  at 
our  peril.  Saint  Paul  had  the  right  point  of 
view  when  he  said :  "  I  keep  under  my  body, 
and  bring  it  into  subjection." 

Education,  then,  conceived  in  its  relation  to 
our  mental  and  moral  nature,  is  the  process  of 
unfolding  and  strengthening  the  rational  facul- 
ties, the  sensibilities,  and  the  will,  in  confor- 
mity with  the  law  of  righteousness,  and  by 
means  of  instruction,  use,  and  discipline. 

It  is  not  necessary,  at  this  time,  to  enter 
into  any  detailed  analysis  of  our  mental  and 
moral  natures;  but  it  is  important  clearly  to 
understand  that  education  is  the  progressive 
attainment  of  strong,  well-furnished,  symmet- 
rical, and  efficient  manhood  and  womanhood. 
In  the  noble  words  of  John  Milton,  it  is  to  be 
**  inflamed  with  the  study  of  learning  and  the 


WDMIMlini 


tuiat'jiauu 


'■■""^■^"■mltii 


t^ 


MOBli 


mmamm 


mmm 


msa/sssssssss 


afat^mallStmKMam,^.. 


174 


TAg  Aim  of  Life. 


-sdOniration  of  virtue;  stirred  up  with  high 
hopes  of  living  to  be  brave  men  and  worthy 
patriots,  dear  to  God. "  The  rightly  educated 
man  is  one  whose  reason  is  clear,  vigorous,  and 
comprehensive,  whose  judgment  is  just,  whose 
conscience  is  quick,  whose  feeling  is  generous 
and  pure,  and  whose  will  is  disciplined  and 
inflexible  in  right  purpose.  If  one  has  not 
these  qualities  he  is  not,  in  the  best  sense, 
educated,  no  matter  how  extensive  may  be  his 
learning. 

(i)  In  the  first  place,  education  is  the 
awakening  and  development  of  the  intellectual 
powers,  —  the  training  and  disciplining  the 
reason,  sharpening  the  power  of  observation, 
strengthening  the  judgment,  and  storing  the 
memory  with  factp  and  principles.  To  live 
wisely  and  efficiently  we  need  to  be  able  to 
think  accurately  and  independently.  Every 
one  should  learn  to  form  his  own  judgments, 
else  he  is  the  victim  of  circumstances  and  the 
puppet  of  other  minds.  I^eaining  to  think  is 
learning  to  stand  on  one's  own  feet.  Educa- 
tion is  a  process  of  coming  into  rational  self- 
possession. 

(2)  But  reason  is  not  properly  separable 
from  conscience,  or  the  moral  sense.  For  con- 
venience, we  are  accustomed  to  discriminate 


WMI 


m 


Education. 


»75 


with   high 

,nd  worthy 

educated 

:orous,  and 

ust,  whose 

is  generous 

plined  and 

le  has  not 

best  sense, 

may  be  his 

on  is  the 
intellectual 
plining  the 
ibservation, 
storing  the 
s.     To  live 

be  able  to 
tly.     Every 

judgments, 
ices  and  the 

to  think  is 
et.  Educa- 
itional  self- 

y  separable 
s.  For  con- 
iiscriminate 


between  the  rational  and  the  moral  in  the 
actions  of  the  mind;  still  further,  we  dis- 
criminate  between  the  moral  and  the  religious. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  we  find  many  examples  of 
men  who  are  intellectually  but  not  morally 
developed.  Reason  and  conscience  seemingly 
are  divorced.  Likewise  we  find  examples  of 
those  who  have  moral  insight  and  conviction 
without  religious  cultivation.  But  in  the  true 
conception  of  man  his  nature  is  an  integer; 
he  is  a  rational,  but  he  is  also  a  moral  and  a 
religious,  being.  These  three  capacities  of  his 
nature  are  radical,  and  no  culture  that  devel- 
ops one  and  not  the  others  is  a  complete  cul- 
ture. The  aptitudes  and  capacities  that  relate 
man  to  his  fellow-man  are  no  more  original  and 
persistent  than  those  which  relate  him  to  God. 
Reason  suffers  serious  loss  when  it  is  separated 
from  the  sense  of  moral  law  and  the  sense  of 
Deity.  All  ethical  and  spiritual  exercises  are 
in  some  sense  also  exercises  of  the  reason. 
Faith  is  essentially  rational.  The  mind  works 
as  completely  and  as  normally  in  worship  and 
prayer  as  in  solving  a  problem  in  geonnetry; 
the  process  may  be  different  in  each  case,  but 
in  both  it  is  natural  and  entirely  consistent 
with  the  laws  of  man's  spiritual  being.  You 
may  have,  indeed,  an  educated  reason  without 


—rjaUtA 


ftwiiiiii'ifi'iaiTini  1 1  iiinOTi  wtm  i 


--J 


176 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


a  clear  and  regulative  moral  perception;  but 
you  are  not  educated,  —  the  education  is  partial 
and  defective.  The  development  of  the  moral 
faculties  is  as  truly  an  element  of  sound  educa- 
tion as  the  development  of  the  mind  in  logical 
skill.  He  who  has  a  dull  conscience,  or  a  heart 
that  is  insensible  to  spiritual  motives,  is  not, 
in  the  best  sense,  educated.  The  relation  of 
those  truths  and  objects  which  are  distinctly 
and  genuinely  religious,  to  the  awakening  and 
unfolding  of  mental  power,  is  so  marked  and  so 
vital  that  Christianity,  and  the  divine  revela- 
tion which  is  the  ground  and  reason  of  Chris- 
tianity, have  stimulated  the  intellectual  life 
and  enlarged  the  intellectual  horizon  of  man 
more  than  anything  else.  The  great  ideas  of 
God,  Incarnation,  Righteousness,  Love,  Salva- 
tion, and  Immortality  have  roused  and  elevated 
the  reason  as  no  ideas  and  facts  of  science  or 
art,  separated  from  religion,  ever  could. 

Our  education  must  take  its  measure  from 
the  whole  breadth  of  our  nature  as  moral  beings, 
or  it  will  be  partial  and  inadequate. 

We  are  so  used  to  thinking  of  education  as  a 
science,  that  we  have  scarcely  thought  of  reli- 
gious instruction  and  experience  as  a  necessary 
part  of  complete  education ;  but  such  they  cer- 
tainly are.     Perhaps  you  have  been  thinking  that 


WESSS 


eption;  but 

ion  is  partial 

uf  the  moral 

sound  educa- 

nd  in  logical 

ce,  or  a  heart 

ives,  is  not, 

2  relation  of 

re  distinctly 

krakening  and 

larked  and  so 

ivine  revela- 

jon  of  Chris- 

ellectual  life 

-izon  of  man 

freat  ideas  of 

Love,  Salva- 

and  elevated 

of  science  or 

could. 

measure  from 
moral  beings, 

education  as  a 
ought  of  reli- 
is  a  necessary 
such  they  cer- 
I  thinking  that 


ifiMe 


Education. 


177 


religion  is  something  aside  from  the  ordinary 
course  and  occupation  of  the  mind.  But  the 
truth  is  that  human  nature  being  what  it  is,  the 
only  natural  and  complete  unfolding  of  it  into 
strengtii  and  beauty  is  through  that  culture 
which,  while  it  develops  the  reason,  develops 
also  the  spiritual  sense,  and  awakens  the  capa- 
city for  apprehending  God. 

(3)  The  sensibility  also  is  to  be  cultivated 
and  trained.  We  are  quite  as  much  creatures 
of  feeling  as  we  are  creatures  of  thought.  The 
emotions  and  passions  of  the  heart  are  capable 
of  a  development  that  enlarges  and  enriches  the 
soul.  The  susceptibility  to  grief,  joy,  pleasure, 
pain,  fear,  and  hope;  the  sense  of  the  beautiful 
and  the  sublime ;  the  power  of  sympathy,  pity, 
love,  and  adoration,  —  all  that  properly  is  char- 
acterizf^d  as  feeling,  is  an  important  part  of 
our  nature.  Education,  in  the  complete  sense, 
involves  a  schooling  of  the  heart  in  every  pure 
and  generous  emotion,  and  in  large  apprecia- 
tion of  all  that  is  good.  The  man  with  a 
narrow  sympathy,  or  little  capacity  for  loving, 
is  so  far  an  uneducated  man,  however  bril- 
liant or  solid  may  be  his  intellectual  attain- 
ments. 

(4)  A  ve«-5'  important  part  of  education  is 
the   development  and  disciplh^e    of  the  will; 


13 


.ifV; 


The  Aim  of  Life. 

without  this,  the  largest  attainments  of  knowl- 
edge lose  much  of  their  value.     The  young 
man  who  comes  from  college  generously  fur- 
nished with  knowledge  of  languages,  sciences, 
and  history,  is  ordinarily  considered  well-edu- 
cated;  but  if  he  is  vacillating  in  purpose,  irreso- 
lute, and  wanting  in  sustained  and  concentrated 
energy,  he  is  but  half  educated.     He  is  like  a 
shapely  and  richly-freighted  vessel  without  keel 
and  rudder,  and  with  no  fire  in  the  furnaces. 
The  will  is  the  true  propulsive  power  in  a  man, 
and  if  that  is  weak  or  ill-rrgulated  he  must  be 
ineffective.     No  education  is  adequate  to  the 
needs  of  life  which  does  not  produce  decision 
of  character,  courage,  self-control,  and  persever- 
ance.   There   is    no   faculty  of  the   soul -no 
power  of  r:  ison,  no  susceptibility  of  heart,  no 
capacity  f;.r  virtue,  no  germ  of  ^^^'^J-''!^^\ 
may  net  be  evolved  into  strength  and  trained 
into    an    efficient  element  of  character.    The 
will  is  the  chief  executive  in  the  Republic  of 
our  faculties;  if  it  is  fit  and  able  to  command, 
because  it  has  been  tempered  and  disciplined  m 
righteousness,  it  unifies  the  whole  nature,  making 
it  harmonious  and  strong  and  efficacious     Why 
is  it  that  so  many  know  far  better  than  they  do? 
Mainly  it  is  because  they  have  not  a  will  edu- 
cated to  an  equal  pitch  with  reason  and  con- 


■^MMtat«A^MiMto*iiai«iHl 


of  knowl- 
he  young 
rously  fur- 
sciences, 
d  well-edu- 
jose,  irreso- 
oncentrated 
le  is  like  a 
trithout  keel 
ie  furnaces, 
er  in  a  mant 
he  must  be 
uate  to  the 
uce  decision 
nd  persever- 
e   soul  —  no 
of  heart,  no 
nergy  —  that 
and  trained 
iracter.    The 
Republic  of 
to  command, 
disciplined  in 
ature,  making 
icious.    Why 
;han  they  do? 
it  a  will  edu- 
ion-  and  con- 


Education. 


179 


science.  Will  has  been  called  "  the  spinal  col- 
umn of  personality ; "  it  is  the  chief  stay  of 
character.  An  undisciplined  will  leaves  the 
mind  subject  to  the  vagaries  of  fancy,  and  think- 
ing degenerates  into  dreaming  or  desultory  and 
profitless  speculation ;  it  leaves  the  heart  a  prey 
to  stormy  passions,  or  capricious  emotions,  and 
conduct  becomes  the.  expression  of  irrational 
and  changeful  impulse. 

It  is  at  just  this  point  that  many  parents 
make  their  first  and  worst  mistake  in  training 
their  children.  They  seem  not  to  understand 
that  they  are  responsible  for  the  education  of 
their  children's  wills,  arid  that  all  the  culture 
which  they  so  assiduously  bestow  on  their  chil- 
dren will  not  save  those  children's  lives  from  in- 
efficiency, and  perhaps  fatal  disaster,  if  their 
wills  are  not  developed  and  trained  in  righteous- 
ness. We  who  are  seeking  education  for  our- 
selves should  learn  speedily  that  the  condition 
and  quality  of  our  wills  is  the  pivotal  point  in 
true  self-culture.  The  Biblical  idea  of  the  worth 
and  use  of  the  will  is  a  revelation  on  this  matter 
of  education.  That  idea  often  has  been  mis- 
represented. Religious  teachers  have  affirmed 
that  in  our  relation  to  God  the  will  should  be 
suppressed  or  annihilated.  Tennyson  sang, 
with  greater  truth  chan  Calvin  or  Edwards 
argued : — 


HiMMMMMMaitiliMiMHiiiitfiiiijMiri^^ 


1 80  The  Aim  of  Life. 

'"  "  Our  wills  ura  oun,  we  know  not  how ; 

Our  wills  are  ours  to  make  them  Thine." 

Subjection  of  the  will  to  God  is  not  an  abdica- 
tion or  loss  of  will,  any  more  than  subjection  of 
the  reason  to  God  is  abdication  or  loss  of  rea- 
son. It  is  only  self-will,  which  is  the  wilfulness 
of  selfishness,  that  must  be  abandoned.  There 
is  no  way  of  subjecting  our  wills  to  God  save 
the  way  of  that  use  and  discipline  by  which  will 
becomes  the  free,  persistent  executor  of  right- 
eousness. To  will  the  wise  and  good  is  to  have 
both  a  free  and  a  strong  will.  The  grand  dis- 
tinction of  the  mature  Christian  —  that  is,  the 
man  who  is  morally  and  spiritually  mature  —  is 
that  his  will  is  liberated  and  strengthened  and 
trained  to  spontaneous  holy  choices  through 
its  rational  subjection  to  God. 

You  see,  then,  how  large  is  the  true  idea  of 
education.  Get  rid  of  the  notion,  if  you  have! 
it,  that  education  is  identical  with  knowledge  of 
books.  Books  —  good  books  —  are  of  immense 
value;  they  are  important  means  of  education. 
But  education  is  the  unfolding  of  our  entire 
nature  —  of  mind,  heart,  conscience,  and  will  — » 
into  strength,  efficiency,  and  beauty.  It  is  not 
what  you  have  that  determines  whether  or  not  you 
are  educated,  but  what  you  are.  If  your  reason 
acts  with  clearness,  force,  and  independence,  and 


""'  '■^'•'■''- 


Education. 


i8i 


n 

thine." 

an  abdica- 
ibjection  of 
loss  of  rea- 
le  wilfulness 
ned  There 
:o  God  save 
y  which  will 
tor  of  right- 
>d  is  to  have 
le  grand  dis- 
-that  is,  the 
'  mature  —  is 
igthened  and 
lices  through 

true  idea  of 
,  if  you  have 
knowledge  of 
e  of  immense 

of  education, 
of  our  entire 
;e,  and  will  — * 
ity.  It  is  not 
ther  or  not  you 
[f  your  reason 
pendence,  and 


in  entire  devotion  to  truth ;  if  your  sensibility  is 
healthily  and  discriminatingly  susceptible  to 
every  exhibition  of  the  beautiful,  the  sublime, 
and  the  good,  and  your  heart  is  the  home  of 
pure  love  and  every  generous  emotion ;  if  your 
conscience  responds  to  the  attraction  of  moral 
law  as  the  planets  respond  to  the  force  of 
gravitation,  and  your  whole  soul  welcomes  God 
as  the  flowers  welcome  the  sun;  and  if  your 
will  steadily  rules  and  regulates  all  your  facul- 
ties in  the  practice  of  righteousness,  —  then  you 
are  educated  as  God  means  His  children  to  be 
educated.  That  is  the  ideal  of  culture ;  in  the 
light  of  it  every  man's  realized  education  is  seen 
to  be  but  relative.  There  is  no  completeness 
here,  —  only  promise  and  progress.  We  hear 
sometimes  of  those  whose  education  is  finished. 
Alas,  for  the  young  man  or  woman  who  con- 
ceives that  education  is  or  can  be  finished  in 
the  few  years  of  school-life  I  You  will  occasion- 
ally see  advertisements  of  institutions  that  call 
themselves  "  finishing-schools ; "  there  is  an 
unsuspected  irony  in  the  name.  I  know  of 
no  finishing-school  but  the  school  of  God's 
wise,  patient  providence ;  and  the  course  in  that 
school  stretches  on  into  the  vista  that  opens 
beyond  the  grave.  "I  carry  my  satchel  still," 
said  the  aged  Michael  Angela 


MiWHI 


B??-'-*K 


n 


The  Aim  of  Life, 


Therefore,    of   necessity,   education   is  pro- 
gressive ;    it  is  not   a   getting,  biti:  a  growmg. 
Plato    said:    "The     true    educatior.    .s    that 
which   draws  men  from  becoming  to   being. 
Life  here  is  the  school  for  life  hereafter.     Our 
education   is  to  be  achieved,  "<>*  ^y  .n^g]^^^' 
ing  or  despising  the   culture   which  is  necea- 
sary  for    efficiency  in  time,  because    we  are 
swTftly  moving  toward  eternity;  but  by  wisely 
appreciating   the   opportunities  and  duties  of 
Tpresent.  and  thus   making  our  educato„ 
here   a  true   basis  and  beginning  of  the  life 

^"Bi:ti^eofyou'mayfeelthatIhavem^^^^ 
the  definition  of  education  so  broad  that  it  be- 
comes vague  and  unpractical.      Is  it  not  true, 
how  ver.  fhat  we  need  to  broaden  rather  than 
to  limit  our  ideas,  and  to  view  present  duties 
and  possibilities  in  the   hght  of  their  eterna 
significance?     To-day  is  the  seed-tnne  of  all 
the  future.    Whatever  acquirements  help  us  to 
do  to-day's  tasks  better  will  help  us  to  achieve 
to-morrow's  work  better,  and  next  years  t^^. 
and  the  tasks  of  all  time.      The    fine   resid- 
uum of  to-day's  study  appears  in  to-m<>rrow  s 
increase  of  power.      Real   acquirement,   even 
the    honest    effort  to    acquire,  improves    our 
quality,  makes  our  minds  broader,  our  hearts 


n  IS  pro- 
n  frrowing. 
is  that 
to  being." 
fter.  Our 
>y  neglect- 
h  is  neces- 
se  we  are 
t  by  wisely 

duties  of 
r  education 
of  tlie  life 

have  made 
1  that  it  be- 
lt not  true, 
rather  than 
esent  duties 
their  eternal 
l-time  of  all 
s  help  us  to 
IS  to  achieve 
year's  tasks, 
fine   resid- 
to-morrow's 
ement,   even 
nproves    our 
',  our  hearts 


Education. 


183 


more  capacious,  and  our  wills  at  once  more 
resolute  and  free. 

To  the  progressive  realization  of  the  ideal 
education  every  endeavor  toward  self-improve- 
ment contributes;  and  having  the  ideal  before 
us  helps  us  to  a  wiser,  as  well  as  inspires  us  to 
a  more  persistent,  endeavor. 

It  is  scarcely  necessary  now  to  speak  at  length  - 
on  the  value  of  education ;  that  must  be  appar- 
ent to  every  earnest  mind.  Some  one  has  made 
the  following  curious  computation:  "A  bar  of 
iron  worth  $5,  worked  into  horse-sH  s  is  worth 
$10.50;   made  into  needles,  it  i  th  $355; 

made  into  pen-knife  blades,  it  is  worth  $3,285 ; 
made  into  balance-springs  of  watches,  it  is 
worth  $250,000."  This  marvellous  progression 
in  value  is  a  vivid  illustration  of  that  advance 
which  man  makes  in  the  process  of  educa- 
tion. He  passes  from  the  crude  iron  of  the 
bar  into  the  tempered  steel  of  the  spring ;  he 
becomes  continually  more  of  a  man,  higher  in 
his  intrinsic  worth,  in  proportion  as  he  develops 
toward  maturity  of  mind  and  soul.  The  savage 
seems  little  above  the  brute;  the  saint  stands 
near  to  God's  throne. 

2.  I  have  space  to  say  but  a  few  words  on 
the  question :  How  shall  education  be  achieved  ? 
How  shall  we,  in  our  various  circumstances,  with 


mmim 


tmkw  I 


i84 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


our  diflerent  endowments  and  diflerent  oppor- 
tunities, begin  and  push  on  this  process  of  devel- 
opment? Do  not  forget  that  this  process  in  not 
merely  intellectual ;  furnishing  and  training 
the  mind  alone  is  not  sufficient.  The  entire 
nature  must  be  included.  It  is  an  important 
truth  that,  while  all  cannot,  perhaps,  be  learned, 
all  may  be  in  some  true  sense  educated.  Every 
one  has  a^  chance  in  life's  great  university. 
Some  of  you  may  be  hindered  from  ever  see- 
ing the  inside  of  a  college ;  but  you  need  not, 
and  if  you  are  courageous  you  will  not,  be 
hindered  from  attaining  that  culture  the  loss 
of  which  no  college  course,  no  parchment  de- 
gree, can  retrieve.  Fi>t,  after  all,  a  college  is 
but  a  means ;  it  is  the  best  means,  both  as  to 
economy  and  efficiency,  but  not  the  only  means 
to  the  lesired  end.  Go  to  college  if  you  can. 
But  if  you  cannot  go  to  college,  then  seize 
and  luilize  every  opportunity  that  life  affords 
you  f  ;r  nu'Ktal  and  moral  self-culture.  The 
ore  sw-j  Ui.-ans  of  education  are  books  and 
'^T  .^n  -e  and  experience,  which  furnish  the  mate- 
: :  u  of  knowledge,  and  that  exercise  of  faculties 
through  which  discipline  is  attained.  These 
two,  knowledge  and  discipline,  or  truth  and 
power,  are  the  possession  of  every  educated 
mind.    The  first  principle  to  learn  and  apply 


rent  oppor- 
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id    training 

The  entire 
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),  both  as  to 
;  only  means 
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:,  then   seize 
t  life   affords 
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WIBSTH,N.Y.  MSM 

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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHIVI/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  MIcroreproductions  /  Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historlques 


Education. 


185 


is  this:   effort  is  the  inexorable  condition  of 
growth.     How  does  a  man  learn  to  thinlc  ?    By 
thinking ;  as  a  child  learns  to  walk  by  walking. 
"How  do  you  teach  your  pupils  to  paint?" 
asked  some  one  of  the  artist  Opie.    "  As  you 
teach  puppies  to  swim,"  was  the   reply;  "by 
chucking  them  in,"    There  is  no  other  way. 
Use  your  reason  and  you  will  come  into  posses- 
sion of  it,  and  it  will  take  on  facility  and  power. 
Use  your  minds  on  the  material  furnished  by 
observation,  by  reading,  and  by  hearing ;  form 
the  habit  of  analyzing,  judging,  and  generalizing; 
exert  your  faculties  continually  in  perceiving 
causes  and  relations,  and  forming  conclusions, 
and  test  your  conclusions  continually  by  facts 
and  principles, — and  you  will  grow  in  mental 
strength  as  surely  as  your  muscles  will  grow  by 
exercise  in  a  gymnasium.    Cultivate  the  habit 
of  serious  and,  as  far  as  possible,  systematic  read- 
ing.    Read  good  books,  books  that  contain  facts 
and  truths  and  inspirations.    It  is  not  necessary 
to  read  many  books,  but  they  should  be  good 
books.    The  greatest  books  are  the  best  for 
self-culture.     Two  minutes  would    suffice    for 
naming  a  library  sufficient  for  "a  lonely  and 
athletic  student,"  —  The  Bible,  Plato,  Shakes- 
peare, Bacon,   Goethe,   Browning.     But  while 
you   use  your  minds  in    the    acquirement   of 


ismmA^msi^- 


i86  The  Aim  of  Life. 

knowledge,  and  the  cultivation  of  reason   and 
taste,  exercise  the  heart  in  pure  and  elevated 
emotions,  and  discipline  the  will  in  right  choices. 
You  are  bundles  of  powers;  these  are  as  yet, 
perhaps,  only  embryonic.     God  has  given  you 
life,  faculty,  occupation,  the  sense  of  duty,  the 
capacity  of  love,  and  the  revelation  of  His  grace. 
Live  alertly   and  earnestly.     Keep  constantly 
before  your  minds  that  you  are  not  here  merely 
to  eat  and  drudge  and  amuse  yourselves  and 
sleep.    Let  each  day  record  in  your  experience 
some    thought    worth    thinking,  some    choice 
worth  making,  some  deed  worth  doing.    Reso- 
lutely persevere  in  this  course,   and   little  by 
little  your  whole  nature  will  expand  and  develop 
and   rise  continually  into  higher  quality  and 
power.    What  you  are  to  aim  at  is  not  to  seem, 
but  to  be,  and  to  be  the  best  possible.    There 
is  no  pretence  more  pitiable  than  the  pretence 
of  culture  which  one  has  not,  except  it  be  the 
pretence  of  piety  which  one  has  not.    You  will 
need  often  to  fortify  yourselves  with  the  reflec- 
tion that  education  is  costly,  — not  so  much  of 
money,  as  of  labor  and  self-denial  and  patience. 
But  it  is  worth  all  the  cost.     Life  is  glorious, 
however  toilful  and  even  painful  it  may  be,  if  it 
be  a  progress  in  knowledge  and  power  and 
righteousness. 


reason  and 
ind  elevated 
ight  choices. 
;  are  as  yet, 
IS  given  you 
of  duty,  the 
of  His  grace, 
p  constantly 

here  merely 
)urselves  and 
ir  experience 
some  choice 
ioing.  Reso- 
and  little  by 
i  and  develop 

quality  and 
s  not  to  seem, 
ssible.  There 
;  the  pretence 
:ept  it  be  the 
lot.  You  will 
ith  the  reflec- 
>t  so  much  of 

and  patience, 
fe  is  glorious, 
t  may  be,  if  it 
id  power  and 


Education. 

The  religious  aspect  of  education  appears  in 
the  relation  of  faith  to  a  sufficient  motive  to  seek 
the  highest  culture.     Belief  in  God  and  immor- 
tality gives  lofty  and  enduring  motive;   self- 
improvement  becomes  a  sacred  duty  in    the 
light  of  our  divine  relations  and  destiny.    That 
is  not  a  true  interpretation  of  Christianity  which 
makes  it  obstructive  of  the  largest  self-culture. 
Jesus  Christ  is  the  powerful  ally  of  every  youth 
who  aspires  to  rise  toward  the  full  measure  of 
his  intellectual  possibility.    The  love  of  God, 
instead  of  being  a  deterrent,  is  a  stimulant  to 
culture.    "Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God 
with  all  \hymind"  is  not  less  obligatory  than 
"Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy 
heart  and  soul."    An  intelligent  and  loyal  devo- 
tion to  Christ  is  a  constant  source  of  impulse 
toward  the  only  complete  education,  that  edu- 
cation the  result  of  which  appears  in  a  fully 
developed,  spiritual  manhood  and  womanhood. 
Under  the  strong    and    gentle   Mastership   of 
Christ  you  will  find  yourselves  drawn  into  a 
fruitful  cultivation  and  a  tonic  discipline  of  all 
your  powers.     His  thoughts   will   enrich   and 
broaden  your  minds ;  his  love  will  enlarge  and 
purify  your  hearts,  making  them  the  homes  of 
all  generous  sympathies,  all  noble  affections, 
and  all  sweet  charities;  and  his  authority  will 


imemKi^iKmtsmmitmumimmMmmimiiii^^- 


The  Aim  of  Life. 

train  your  wills  in  virtuous  choices  that  will 
surely  develop  into  righteous  habits,  and  npen 
at  last  into  permanent  characters  in  every  hn- 
eament  of  which  will  shine  "the  beauty  of 
holiness." 


es  that  will 
A,  and  ripen 
in  every  lin- 
e  beauty  of 


SAVING  TIME. 

Time  is  the  chrysalia  of  eternity.  —  Richtkr. 

Act  well  at  the  moment,  and  you  have  performed  a  good  act 
to  all  eternity.  —  Lavater. 

Short  as  life  is  we  make  it  still  shorter  by  the  careless  waste 
of  time.  — Victor  Hugo. 

I  wasted  time,  and  now  time  doth  waste  me.  — Shakes- 
peare. 

I^st,  yesterday,  somewhere  between  sunrise  and  sunset,  two 
golden  hours,  each  set  with  sixty  diamond  minutes.  No  reward 
is  offered,  for  they  are  gone  forever.  —  Horace  Mann. 

If  time  be  of  all  things  the  most  precious,  wasting  time  must 
be  the  greatest  prodigality,  since  lost  time  is  never  found 
again ;  and  what  we  call  time  enough  always  proves  Uttle 
enough.— Franklin. 

See  then  that  ye  walk  drcumspectiy,  not  as  fools,  but  as 
wise,  redeeming  the  time,  because  the  days  are  evil.  — Saint 
Paul. 

IT  was  an  old  custom  to  place  in  the  hand  of 
a  corpse  an  hour-glass  in  which  all  the 
sands  had  run  down.  It  were  wiser  to  put  an 
hour-glass  in  the  hand  of  the  living  that  there 
might  be  before  the  mind,  in  the  sinking  sand, 
a  vl  'id  symbol  of  time's  unceasing  lapse.  Many 
are  saving  of  money,  saving  of  labor,  saving  of 


I 


r^Mi- 


I90 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


health,  and  prodigal  of  time.  The  little  appre< 
ciation  of  time  of  which  a  large  part  of  society 
is  guilty  has  coined  itself  into  the  phrase  "  kill- 
ing time."  What  a  murder  is  that!  It  is 
strange  that,  when  every  moment  of  time  gives 
space  for  some  high  thought,  some  noble  deed, 
some  gain  in  knowledge  and  goodness,  time 
should  be  so  lightly  esteemed  and  even  scorned. 
They  who  set  no  value  on  time,  who  talk  of 
killing  time  because,  forsooth,  their  own  abuse 
of  it  brings  to  them  weariness  and  disgust,  are 
like  the  drowsing  princess  who  saw  not  that  her 
necklace  of  pearls  lay  broken  on  the  boat's 
verge,  and  at  every  oscillation  of  the  idly  rock- 
ing boat  a  precious  pearl  slipped  from  the 
severed  string  into  the  deep. 

Why  should  we  save  time?  Because  time  is 
opportunity  for  life,  and  time  lost  cannot  be 
recovered,  it  is  lost  forever.  Each  moment 
comes  to  us  rich  in  possibilities,  bringing  to 
us  duty,  privilege,  the  space  and  the  call  for 
achievement,  and,  even  as  we  contemplate  it, 
becomes 

"  Portion  and  parcel  of  the  dreadful  past." 

All  life  is  condensed  into  the  moment  that  we 
call  "now,"  and  the  wasting  of  a  moment 
is,   for  that   moment,   the   wasting  of  a   life. 


W^WmT^'"'- 


Saving  Time. 


191 


little  appre- 
of  society 
hrase  "  kill- 
lat!      It  is 
time  gives 
noble  deed, 
)dness,  time 
vren  scorned, 
who  talk  of 
r  own  abuse 
disgust,  are 
not  that  her 
n  the  boat's 
:he  idly  rock- 
ed from  the 

cause  time  is 
St  cannot  be 
)ach  moment 
bringing  to 
the  call  for 
mtemplate  it, 

d  put." 

•ment  that  we 
tf  a  moment 
ng  of  a   life. 


"Dost  thou  love  life?  "  said  Poor  Richard,  "  then 
do  not  squander  time,  for  that  is  the  stuff  life 
is  made  of."  "  Look  here,"  said  De  Quincy. 
"  Put  into  a  Roman  clepsydra  one  hundred 
drops  of  water ;  let  these  run  out  as  the  sands  in 
an  hour-glass,  —  every  drop  measuring  the  hun- 
dredth part  of  a  second,  so  that  each  shall  repre- 
sent but  the  three-hundred-and-sixty-thousandth 
part  of  an  hour.  Now  count  the  drops  as  they 
race  along ;  and,  when  the  fiftieth  of  the  hundred 
is  passing,  behold !  forty-nine  are  not,  because 
already  they  have  perished ;  and  fifty  are  not, 
because  they  are  yet  to  come.  You  see,  there- 
fore, how  narrow,  how  incalculably  narrow,  is 
the  true  and  actual  present.  Of  that  time  which 
we  call  the  present,  hardly  a  hundredth  part 
but  belongs  either  to  a  past  which  has  fled,  or 
to  a  future  which  is  still  on  the  wing."  An 
officer  apologized  to  General  O.  M.  Mitchell, 
the  astronomer,  for  a  brief  delay,  saying  he  was 
only  a  few  moments  late.  "  Only  a  few  moments 
late  I  "  exclaimed  the  general ;  "  I  have  been  in 
the  habit  of  calculating  the  value  of  the  thou- 
sandth part  of  a  second."  An  apparently  trifling 
waste  of  time  has  lost  a  great  battle,  and  changed 
the  political  destiny  of  a  continent.  An  hour 
or  two  saved  by  Napoleon  might  Ui.ve  made 
Waterloo  as  proud  a  remembrance  u  r  France 
as  it  is  now  for  England. 


h 


i.  \iati(siMmiaieii«mmmiamSai 


■mam 


192 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


A  few  years  ago  an  important  astronomical 
event  occurred, —  the  transit  of  Venus.  AH 
over  the  world  governments  as  well  as  individual 
men  were  deeply  interested  in  the  coming  of 
that  event  the  successful  observation  of  which 
would  reward  the  endeavors  and  verify  the 
patient  calculations  of  many  years,  and  give 
greater  accuracy  to  astronomical  work  through 
all  the  future.  The  loss  of  five  minutes,  three 
minutes,  one  minute,  would  have  hopelessly 
defeated  the  purpose  for  the  accomplishment 
of  which  so  much  money  had  been  spent  and 
so  great  labors  had  been  borne. 

Ask  Professor  Newcomb  in  his  observatory 
at  Washington  the  value  of  time  from  a  merely 
scientific  point  of  view,  and  he  will  tell  you  that 
we  have  no  standard  by  which  adequately  to 
measure  its  value.  But  the  scientific  point  of 
view  is  not  the  highest  point  of  view,  nor  is  the 
scientific  value  of  time  its  highest  value.  The 
chief  interests  of  life  are  moral  and  spiritual ;  all 
else  is  scaffolding  and  instrument,  all  else  takes 
its  significance  from  these.  Not  knowledge  and 
achievement,  but  character  and  destiny,  are 
the  fundamental  concerns;  in  relation  to  these 
time  has  a  transcendent  value.  Often  a  just 
appreciation  of  the  true  use  and  real  value  of 
time  comes  only  when  the  end  alike  of  toil  and 


stronomical 
/enus.  All 
as  individual 
coining  of 
on  of  which 
verify  the 
rs,  and  give 
ork  through 
linutes,  three 
;  hopelessly 
omplishment 
;n  spent  and 

1  observatory 

rem  a  merely 

I  tell  you  that 

Adequately  to 

itific  point  of 

ew,  nor  is  the 

t  value.    The 

spiritual;  all 

all  else  takes 

nowledge  and 

destiny,  are 

ition  to  these 

Often  a  just 

real  value  of 

ke  pf  toil  and 


Saving  Time. 


19^ 


of  pleasure  is  drawing  near.  The  solemnity  of 
death  lies  quite  as  much  in  the  retrospect  to 
which  its  approach  awakens  the  mind,  as  in  the 
doubtful  prospect.  Like  the  sibylline  books, 
the  days  enhance  prodigiously  in  value  as  they 
diminish  in  number.  And  yet  there  is  time 
enough  for  life's  great  ends.  "We  all  com- 
plain,"  said  Seneca, "  of  the  shortness  of  time  ; 
and  yet  we  have  more  than  we  know  what  to 
do  with.  Our  lives  are  spent  either  in  doing 
nothing  at  all,  or  in  doing  nothing  to  the  pur- 
pose, or  in  doing  nothing  that  we  ought  to  do. 
We  are  always  complaining  that  our  days  are 
few,  and  acting  as  though  there  would  be  no 
end  of  them." 

Among  all  our  economies  there  is  none,  per- 
haps, more  important,  and  none  less  understood 
and  less  wisely  practised  tb'in  a  true  economy 
of  time.  What  is  it  to  save  time?  It  cannot, 
like  money,  be  hoarded ;  it  can  be  saved  only 
by  the  manner  in  which  it  is  spent,  for  spend  it 
we  must.  Time  spent  in  recreation,  or  in  seem- 
ing idleness,  is  not  necessarily  wasted ;  proper 
recreation  and  rest  of  body  and  mind  are  neces- 
sary elements  of  a  true  economy  of  time. 
"  Take  rest,"  said  Ovid;  " a  field  that  has  rested 
gives  a  bountiful  crop  of  corn." 

On  the  other  hand,  time  spent  in  work  is  not 
«3 


Ik* 


194 


Tht  Aim  of  Lift. 


always  saved;  work  is  waste  if  it  be  done  at 
the  expense  of  needed  recreation.  Often  time 
is  wasted  because  it  is  devoted  to  work  that 
were  better  left  undone.  Trivial  and  needless 
tasks,  tasks  that  are  invented  merely  to  give 
essential  indolence  the  appearance  of  industry, 
belong  to  the  spendthrift  of  time.  How  much 
work  is  but  time  "  elaborately  thrown  away  I " 
All  evil-doing  is  waste  of  time;  every  hour 
lived  selfishly  is  thrown  away.  Wickedness  is 
the  worst  form  of  prodigality.  Much  of  work 
done  for  merely  temporal  and  material  ends, 
though  the  ends  themselves,  in  proper  subordi- 
nation to  the  main  ends  of  life,  are  legitimate, 
is  waste  of  time.  The  miser's  life  is  as  really 
misspent  as  the  prodigal's.  Many  a  man  who 
has  toiled  through  years,  avaricious  of  time,  los- 
ing no  moment  that  he  could  snatch  from  sleep 
in  order  to  turn  it  into  gold,  has  laid  himself 
down  at  last  in  a  cheerless  grave,  and  left  behind 
him  three-score  wasted  years,  —  a  loss  far  out- 
balancing all  his  gains. 

Saving  time  is  using  time  in  accordance  witit 
those  physical  and  moral  and  spiritual  laws 
under  which  man  is  to  attain  his  ends  and  fulfil 
his  destiny  as  a  child  of  God.  With  this  fun- 
damental principle  of  economy  in  mind,  let  us 
consider  the  question:  How  may  we  save  time? 


be  done  at 

Often  time 

>  work  that 

md  needless 

•ely  to  give 

of  industry, 

How  much 
)wn  away ! " 

every  hour 
'ickedness  is 
uch  of  work 
laterial  ends, 
)per  subordi- 
'e  legitimate, 

is  as  really 
^  a  man  who 
i  of  time,  los- 
:h  from  sleep 
,  laid  himself 
nd  left  behind 
I  loss  far  out- 

cordance  witl» 
spiritual  laws 
;nds  and  fulfil 
A^ith  this  fun- 
i  mind,  let  us 
we  save  time  ? 


Saving  Timi. 


>95 


I.  Wi  maysavt  timt  by  putting  it  to  its  best 
ust.  The  best  use  of  time  is  determined  by  the 
true  aim  of  life.  If  acquisition  of  wealth  is  the 
supreme  aim,  then  the  best  use  of  time  is  its 
persistent  expenditure  in  planning  and  striving 
to  win  and  accumulate  money.  But  money  is 
only  temporal  in  value,  and  even  in  time  its 
worth  and  use  arc  limited.  Besides  we  are  not 
meant  to  live  here  always ;  this  world  is  but  a 
scene  of  preparation  for  another.  Money,  like 
every  other  material  thing,  derives  its  chief  value, 
we  may  even  say  its  entire  value,  from  its  pos- 
sible use  in  the  service  of  the  spirit  The  earth 
is  the  sphere,  but  in  no  sense  the  goal,  of  man's 
best  aspiration  and  endeavor.  It  is  a  pedestal 
for  us  to  stand  on  as  we  look  up,  but  not  a  god 
for  us  to  worship;  it  is  opportunity  and  instru- 
ment, not  an  end.  Sad  indeed  is  the  lot  of  him 
who,  making  the  world  his  chief  good,  gains  the 
world  and  loses  himself  — the  true,  spiritual 
self,  in  which  life  attains  a  divine  fulfilment.  I 
temember  some  lines  that  v/ere  in  the  school 
reading-books  of  thirty  years  ago :  — 

"  The  world  for  sale  I  hang  ou.  the  sign ; 

Call  every  traveller  here  to  me  : 
Who  11  buy  this  brave  estate  of  mine, 

And  set  this  weary  spirit  free  ? 
'T  is  going  I  yes,  I  mean  to  fling 

The  bauble  from  my  soul  away; 
1 11  sell  it.  whatsoe'er  it  bring ; 

The  world 's  at  auction  here  to<lay  I 


4'iip5»gSE'*,7»i,is--i*ifc'Si..'. 


The  Aim  of  Life. 

"  It  U  a  glorious  sight  to  see,  — 

But,  ah  1  it  has  deceived  me  sore  5 
It  is  not  what  it  seems  to  be. 

For  sale  1  it  shall  be  mine  no  more. 
Come,  turn  it  o'er,  and  view  it  well ;  , 

I  would  not  have  you  purchase  dear. 
T  Is  going  I  gping  I   I  must  sell  1  ,, 

Whobiua?    Who  01  buy  the  splendid  Tear? 

God  is  our  true  end.  and  His  service  is  our 
true  occupation.      The  best  use  that  we  can 
t^iake  of  time  is  to  spend   it  in  fulfilling  the 
divine  will.    Time  then  becomes  not  so  much 
the  prelude  as  the  beginning  of  eternity.    The 
old  divines  used  to  preach  much  on  the  neces- 
sity of  preparation  for  death,  but  the  preparation 
we  most  need  is  for  life;  right  living  to-day  is 
tiie  only  rational  preparation  for  death,  or  what- 
ever may  come  after  death.    Whatever  use  of 
time  hinders  the  development  of  our  spirite  m 
wisdom,  purity,  and  unselfishness,  is  an  abuse 
and  waste  of  time;  whatever  use  of  time  brings 
to    us    knowledge  and    skill  in    doing    good, 
broadens  our  minds  and  enlarges  our  hearts, 
brings  righteous  purpose  to  birth,  and  enriches 
human  life  with  beneficent  activity  «  a  true 
economy  of  time.    Every  eflfort  of  thought  that 
elevates  the  soul;    every  deed  or  word  that 
makes  life  milder  ,and  sorrow  less  bitter,  and 
evil  less  prevalent,  and  so  helps  on  the  coming  of 


Saving  Time. 


197 


tre. 

I;  I 

lev. 
lendidTear?" 

J  service  is  our 
;e  that  we  can 
\  fulfilling  the 
s  not  so  much 
eternity.    The 
li  on  the  neces- 
the  preparation 
living  to-day  is 
death,  or  what- 
Whatever  use  of 
of  our  spirits  in 
ess,  is  an  abuse 
,e  of  time  brings 
in    doing    good, 
rges  our  hearts, 
rth,  and  enriches 
ctivity  is  a  true 
t  of  thought  that 
d  or  word  that 
less  bitter,  and 
on  the  coming  of 


God's  kingdom  in  the  earth,  —  saves  time.  The 
rest  which  restores  our  exhausted  strength ;  the 
amusement  which  freshens  our  jaded  faculties ; 
the  meditation  which  fructifies  the  soul  with 
pure  and  lofty  ideas ;  the  self-examination  which 
produces  true  self-knowledge  and  the  impulse 
continually  to  improve  our  characters ;  the  en- 
durance that  makes  heroism  a  habit;  and  the 
endeavor  that  increases  day  by  day  the  sum- 
total  of  human  good,  —  all  this  is  time  put  to 
its  highest  use. 

If  our  purpose  in  life  be  right,  there  will  be 
no  want  of  opportunity  to  use  well  all  the  time 
that  God  gives  us.  The  ordinary  relations  and 
experiences  of  our  lives  afford  abundant  scope 
for  our  best  powers,  and  the  progress  of  civili- 
zation continually  opens  up  new  channels  for 
the  exercise  of  developing  capability.  To  the 
earnest  soul  life  is  rich  beyond  price.  When 
we  think  of  all  that  we  may  do  and  become  for 
humanity  and  God,  how  valuable  time  is  and 
how  short  it  seems !  But  the  terms  "  long  "  and 
"short"  have  little  meaning  when  applied  to 
the  life  of  the  souL 

"  We  live  in  deeds,  not  years ;  in  thoughts,  not  breaths ; 
In  feelings,  not  in  figures  on  a  dial. 
We  should  count  time  by  heart-throbs. 
He  most  lives  who  thinks  most,  feels  the  noblest,  acto 
the  best." 


W'- 


igg  The  Aim  of  Life. 

That  was  a  wise  saying  by  quaint  old  Thomas 
Fuller:  "He  lives  long  that  lives  well;  and 
time  misspent  is  not  lived,  but  lost."  ^ 

2    We  may  save  time  by  controlling  tt.     ims, 
often,  is  difficult  to  do.     In  the  bread-winning 
work  of  life  many  must  put  the  larger  part  of 
their  time  at  the  disposal  of  others;  but  the 
control  of  time  should  not  be  so   completely 
relinquished  as  to  allow  it  to  be  «P«"ded  m 
unworthy  ways  and  for  evil  ends.     If  you  sell 
your  time  to  an  employer  for  a  certam  wage 
you  ought  not  to  sell  it  so  entirely  that  he  may 
make  it  wasted  time.     I  know  that  there  are 
survivals  still  of  that  tyranny  which  seeks  to 
turn  men   into  mere  machines  for  producmg 
wealth,  and  which  attempts,  often  successfully. 
To  compel  a  service  that  violates  the  hjws  of 
God  if  not  the  laws  of  human  society.    Many  a 
time  I  have  listened  with  sad  and   protesting 
heart  to  men  who  told  me  of  being  forced  by 
the  greed  of  employers,  combined  with  the  exi- 
gency of  their  own  need,  to  do  things  from  which 
Lir  consciences  as  well  as  their  tastes  recoiled, 
and  to  work  during  hours  that  by  divine  revela- 
tion and  the  spiritual  instincts  of  men  have  been 
consecrated  to  rest  and  worship.  ^  .  .    „  . 

There  is  a  problem  here,  in  our  industrial  and 
moral  life,  which  is  hard  to  solve :  how  to  rescue 


\ 


it  old  Thomas 
es  well;    and 

Mt." 

ling  it.    This, 
bread-winning 
larger  part  of 
hers;  but  the 
so   completely 
;  expended  in 
5.    If  you  sell 
I  certain  wage, 
ly  that  he  may 
that  there  are 
^hich  seeks  to 
for  producing 
;n  successfully, 
:es  the  laws  of 
ciety.    Many  a 
and   protesting 
)eing  forced  by 
ed  with  the  exi- 
ings  from  which 
•  tastes  recoiled, 
)y  divine  revela- 
f  men  have  been 

ur  industrial  and 
e :  how  to  rftscue 


Saving  Time. 


199 


the  poor  from  the  unnecessary  and  sometimes 
iniquitous  exactions  of  powerful  corporations. 
It  may  be  true  that  "  corporations  have  no 
souls,"  as  the  world  consents  with  biting  sar- 
casm to  say ;  but  we  may  be  sure  that  corpora- 
tions have  a  judgment-day,  sooner  or  later,  in 
time,  and  by-and-by  a  better  instructed  public 
conscience,  as  well  as  divine  Providence,  will 
pronounce  a  just  retribution  on  those  who  have 
made  unrighteous  gain  out  of  the  necessities  of 
their  fellow-men. 

Emancipation  must  come  partly  from  the 
workers  themselves.  It  is  every  one 's  duty  so  to 
control  his  time  that  it  shall  not  be  prostituted 
to  the  service  of  Mammon  or  the  Devil.  It  is 
better  to  starve  than  to  be  a  slave ;  it  is  better 
to  disregard  the  deceptive  promises  of  advance- 
ment which  are  sometimes  held  out  as  an  appeal 
to  selfish  ambition  and  a  bribe  to  conscience, 
than  to  make  any  material  gain  at  the  expense 
of  manhood. 

But  aside  from  the  demands  of  the  main 
occupation  which  supplies  material  needs,  there 
is  much  time,  though  it  be  only  in  fragments, 
that  may  be  saved  for  the  best  uses.  The 
Scotch  have  a  homely  proverb :  "  Mony  littles 
mak*  a  mickle."  An  education  that  would 
adorn  a  man  of  letters,  or  qualify  a  college  pror 


—■»XmM 


3O0  The  Aim  of  Life. 

fessor,  has  been  secured  in  the  fragments  of 
leisure  that  are  often  wasted  because  they  are 
so  little.     Professor  William  Matthews,  .n  h.s 
admirable  book.  "Getting  on  in  the  World, 
gives  an  instructive  list  of  great  men  who  did 
nmch  of  the  work  for  which  they  are  remembered 
by  economizing  odd  moments.    "Franklin,    he 
says,  "  stole  his  hours  of  study  from  meals  and 
sleep,  and,  for  years,  with  inflexible  resolution, 
strove  to  save  for  his  own  instruction  every 
minute  that  could  be  won.    Henry  Kirke  White 
learned  Greek  while  walking  to  and  from  a  law- 
yer's office.      Hugh  Miller  found  time  while 
pursuing  his  trade  as  a  stone-mason,  "ot  only 
to  read,  but  to  write,  cultivating  his  style  ti  I  he 
became  one  of  the  most  facile  and  brilliant 
authors  of  the  day.    Elihu  Burritt  acquired  a 
mastery  of  eighteen  languages  and  twenty-two 
dialects,  not  by  rare  genius,  which  he  disclaimed, 
but  by  improving  the  bits  and  fragments  of 
time  which  he  could  steal  from  his  occupation 
as  a  blacksmith.      Mr.  Grote  the  historian  of 
Greece,  whose  work  is  by  far  the  fullest  and 
most  trustworthy  on  the  subject,  and  who  also 
snatched  time  from  business  to  write  two  large 
volumes  upon  Plato,  was  a   banker.      But  1 
have  quoted  quite  enough  to  illustrate  what  I 
mean  about  economizing  the  odds  and  ends  of 


Saving-  Time. 


aoi 


ragments  of 
use  they  are 
ihews,  in  his 
the  World,"     ' 
len  who  did 

remembered 
franklin,"  he 
fm  meals  and 
le  resolution, 
ruction  every 

Kirke  White 
d  from  a  law- 
d  time  while 
son,  not  only 
is  style  till  he 

and  brilliant 
tt  acquired  a 
nd  twenty-two 
he  disclaimed, 

fragments  of 
his  occupation 
\t  historian  of 
Jie  fullest  and 
,  and  who  also 
write  two  large 
inker."  But  I 
lustrate  what  I 
ids  and  ends  of 


our  time.  There  is  scarcely  any  one  who  cannot 
get  a  few  minutes  each  day  for  solid  self-im- 
provement. Thirty  minutes  a  day  diligently 
^ent  in  reading  will  enable  one  in  a  year  to  go 
through  profitably  twenty  good  books  of  aver- 
age size.  That  is  more,  I  presume,  than  most 
of  you  have  read  of  serious  literature  during  the 
past  year.  As  a  little  time  can  be  secured  each 
day  for  instructive  reading,  so  also  a  little  time 
can  be  found  for  religious  self-culture,  for  con- 
ning a  few  stimulating  sentences  in  the  Bible, 
and  for  meditation  and  prayer.  It  is  only  by  a 
watchful  husbanding  of  the  minutes  that  many 
of  you  will  secure  the  growth  in  knowledge  and 
spiritual  insight  on  which,  so  much  more  than 
on  anything  else,  depends  the  real  usefulness 
and  happiness  of  life. 

Again,  every  one  can  save  time  for  helping 
others, —  for  doing  those  deeds  of  neighborly 
Jcindness,  and  speaking  those  words  of  sympathy 
and  encouragement  which  are  so  powerful  for 
good  on  the  lives  of  people  around  us.  "  Life 
is  not  so  short,"  said  Emerson,  "  but  that  there 
M  always  time  enough  for  courtesy."  Time 
spent  in  unselfish  ministry  to  the  real  needs  of 
others  is  never  time  lost,  but  time  saved.  Such 
expenditure  never  impoverishes  but  enriches 
the  spender. 


1 


202  The  Aim  of  Life. 

^         *  Suppose  a  neighbor  should  desire 
To  light  a  candle  at  your  fire. 
Would  It  deprive  your  flame  of  light, 
Because  another  profite  by  *t  ? "  ^ 

Minutes  are  like  gold-dust,  which  is  never  so 
fine  that  it  cannot  be  used,  or  that  it  loses  any  I 
of  its  value;   a  crown  fit  for  a  king  can  be 
made  out  of  the  sweepings  of  the  goldsmith  s 
shop,  as  well  as  out  of  the  massy  bar.    In  Phil- 
adelphia, the  floors  of  the  United  States  mint  are 
covered  with  a  light  grating,  and.  at  stated  inter- 
vals.  this  grating  is  taken  up  and  the  floors  are 
carefully  swept  in  order  to  recover  the  precious 
particles  of  gold  that  unseen  have  fallen  upon 
them.    I  was  told  by  an  employ^  of  the  mint 
that  some  years  ago  a  fellow-workman  was  de- 
tected  in  wearing  some  adhesive  substance  on 
the  soles  of  his  shoes,  and  it  was  discovered  that 
he  had  thus  picked  up  and  carried  away  an 
almost  incredible  amount  of  gold.    What  a  gam 
we  should  make,  clear  and  honest  gain,  if  we 
had  the  wit  to  furnish  our  minds  w'th^o™* 
adhesive  quality  that  would  seize  the  bright, 
golden  fragments  of  time  which  now  every  day 
we  thoughtlessly  waste.    Save  time  by  control- 
ling it. -by  directing  the  mind  to  a  wise  and 
scrupulous  economy  of  the  leisure  minutes  that 
interspace  every  day's  toil. 


Saving  Time. 


203 


It, 

h  is  never  so 
it  it  loses  any 
king  can  be 
le  goldsmith's 
bar.    In  Phil- 
>tates  mint  are 
at  stated  inter- 
the  floors  are 
;r  the  precious 
/e  fallen  upon 
fh  of  the  mint 
irkman  was  de- 
>  substance  on 
discovered  that 
rried   away  an 
.    What  a  gain 
lest  gain,  if  we 
nds  with  some 
ize  the  bright, 
now  every  day 
ime  by  control- 
to  a  wise  and 
re  minutes  that 


3.   We  may  save  time  by  taking  time  to  prepare 
for  our  life's  work.    We  live   in  a  time  when 
every  one  seems  to  be  in  a  hurry.    The  leisurely 
life  of  a  century,  or  even  half  a  century,  ago  has 
almost  vanished  from  this  Western  Hemisphere. 
The  art  of  resting  is  well-nigh  a  lost  art.     Men 
are  in  haste  to  get  rich,  in  haste  to  get  learning, 
in  haste  to  get  pleasure,  in  haste  to  do  every- 
thing but  to  hasten  slowly,  and  ripen  in  heart  and 
soul.    We  have  almost  a  minimum  of  holidays; 
and  those  that  we  have  we  spend  in  laborious 
pleasure-seeking.    We  are  losing  our  Sabbath, 
for  in  many  parts  of  thf.  land  the  smoke  of  our 
factories  and  mills  weaves  its  dark  web  over  our 
homes  from  Monday  morning  to  Monday  morn- 
ing, and  our  steam-cars  rush  with  smoking  axles 
through  all  the  seven  days  and   nights  of  the 
week.    One  result  of  this  haste  is  that  men  are 
wearing  out,  and  a  vast  amount  of  work  is  done 
that  resembles  many  of  our  modern  buildings,  — 
it  is  too  quickly  done  to  be  permanent.    Build- 
ers and  buildings  alike  endure  but  half  their 
time.    This  is  the  sure-footed  Nemesis  that  fol- 
lows hard  upon  our  sin  of  excessijfe  haste.     In 
the  hush  about  death-beds,  on  which  manhood's 
strength    and  woman's  grace  lie   prematurely 
sacrificed  by  the  insatiate  spirit  of  feverish  toil, 
we  may  hear  the  poet-voice,  rising  into  a  prophet- 
voice,  saying :  — 


I 


a04  Th*  Aim  of  Life. 

«  O  earth,  so  fuU  of  dreary  notoM  I 
O  men,  with  wailing  in  your  voice*  t 
O  delvM  gold,  the  wallers  heap  I 
O  strife,  O  curse,  that  o'er  it  fall  I 
God  strikes  a  silence  through  you  all, 
And  giveth  His  beloved  sleep." 

Slowly  we  learn  the  lesson  that  haste  makes 
waste,  of  life  as  well  as  of  materials.  Men  may 
build  a  pasteboard  house  in  a  day;  but  they 
cannot  rear  the  solid  structure  that  bids  defiance 
to  time,  or  shape  the  strong  character  that  re- 
sists the  pressure  of  trial,  save  as  they  are  wil- 
ling to  use  time  in  some  such  way  as  God  uses 
it  in  evolving  from  an  acorn  the  gigantic  and 

invincible  oak. 

It  is  poor  economy  to  give  scant  time  to  lay- 
ing ioundations.    Many  a  young  man  irremedi- 
ably  mars  his  life  by  haste  in  assuming  his 
life's  work.     One  wishes  to  be  a  lawyer,  and 
is  eager  to  begin  his  chosen  career.     He  will 
not  go  to  college,  for  that  takes  time;  h«nce 
he  enters  upon  a  noble  and  arduous  calling 
with  faculties  undisciplined  by  vigorous  pre- 
paratory training,  and,  in  time,  develops  into  a 
small  pettifogger,  or  rises  into  power  and  emi- 
nence  after  years  of  toil  with  the  conscious- 
ness  that  he  has  been  hampered  through  all  his 
course  by  want  of  broad  and  solid  preparation. 
Another  wishes  to  be  a  physician,  another  a 


haste  makes 
i.  Men  may 
ly;   but  they 

bids  defiance 
acter  that  re- 
they  are  wil- 
/  as  God  uses 

gigantic  and 

»t  time  to  lay- 
man irremedi- 

assuming  his 
a  lawyer,  and 
•eer.  He  will 
s  time;  hence 
'duous  calling 

vigorous  pre- 
levelops  into  a 
lower  and  emi- 
the  conscious- 
through  all  his 
id  preparation. 
;ian,  another  a 


Saving  Time. 


*05 


merchant,  another  a  journalist ;  too  young  to 
choose  wisely,  and  with  fathers  too  busy  to 
choose  wisely  for  them,  these  callow  youths 
waste  not  only  time,  but  much  besides,  because 
of  their  haste  to  begin  work  for  which  they  are 
not  fit.  Green  lumber  shrinks,  and,  put  into 
the  house  before  it  is  seasoned,  leaves  gaping 
cracks  to  mar  the  beauty  and  lessen  the 
strength  of  the  building.  Untempered  mortar 
in  the  hastily  built  wall  necessitates  unceasing 
and  expensive  repairs,  or  insures  speedy  decay 

and  ruin. 

Learn  this  lesson  well,  that  time  spent  in 
seasoning  and  fitting  yourselves  for  the  serious 
business  of  life  is  not  time  wasted,  but  time 

saved. 

If  you  are  called  to  the  ministry  of  religion 
heed  the  call;  but  remember  that  the  call  is 
first  to  careful  and  ample  preparation.  If  you 
are  called  to  teach,  take  time  to  make  your- 
self capable  to  teach  out  of  the  fulness  <rf  your 
own  knowledge  and  the  force  of  your  own 
disciplined  strength.  When  God  wants  a  nian 
or  a  woman  for  some  great  work  in  the  world 
He  does  not  commission  a  crude,  untempered 
soul.  Moses  was  schooled  for  forty  years  in 
Egypt,  and  disciplined  for  forty  years  more  in 
the  desert,  before  he  ^^as  fit  to  lead  Israel  out 


2o6  The  Aim  of  Life. 

of  bondage  and  create  a  new  nation  for  con- 
quest. It  is  even  pertinent  to  recall  that  our 
blessed  Lord  was  full  thirty  years  old  before 
he  began  his  public  ministry.  The  principle 
that  good  work  demands  thoroughness  of  prep- 
aration, and  that  adequate  preparation  is  a 
true  saving  of  time,  is  applicable  to  every 
important  vocation.  . 

4.    We  may  save  time  by  having  a  definite 
aim,  and  by  concentrating  our  energies  in  the  line 

of  that  aim. 

The  first  condition  of  right  and  efficient  lite 
is  to  know  exactly  the  end  for  which  you  are 
living,  and  to  maintain  inflexibly  the  purpose 
of  living  for  that  end.  Many  men  do  not  find 
their  proper  work  till  middle  life,  or  even  later; 
or  having  found  it,  they  lack  the  necessary 
tenacity  of  purpose  to  do  that  work;  mean- 
while they  waste  much  time  and  strength  in 
vainly  attempting  to  do  work  for  which  they 
are  not  fit,  and  at  last  sink  into  a  state  of 
chronic  discontent  and  hopeless  inefficiency. 

Save  time  by  early  defining  your  specific 
work  and  by  concentrating  your  energies  on 

that  work.  ,       ...      .^ 

5.  Finally.  We  may  save  Ume  by  dotng  to- 
day the  duty  tliat  belongs  to  to-day.  Each  day 
brings  its  peculiar  opportunity  for  doing  good. 


on  for  con- 
lU  that  our 
i  old  before 
le  principle 
ess  of  prep- 
iration  is  a 
(le  to  every 

f  a  definite 
es  in  the  line 

efficient  life 
lich  you  are 
the  purpose 
\  do  not  find 
>r  even  later ; 
he  necessary 
work;  mean- 
strength  in 
r  which  they 
)   a  state  of 
inefficiency, 
your  specific 
•  energies  on 

/  by  doing  to- 
y.  Each  day 
r  doing  good. 


Saving  Time. 


207 


Procrastination  is  the  thief  of  power  and  hap- 
piness as  well  as  of  time.     Here,  at  your  side 
and  mine,  are  needs  that  appeal  for  such  min- 
istry as  we  can  give.     Now  is  always  "the 
acceptable  time."     Heal  the  hurts  of  to-day, 
and  save  to-morrow's  pain.     Speak  the  true, 
kind  word  to-day,  and  save  to-morrow's  regret 
when  ears  deaf  with  death  cannot  receive  the 
tardy  tribute  of  appreciation  and  sympathy. 
Bestow  your  charities  now,  when  with  them 
will  go,  to  enhance  their  value,  the  force  of 
your  personal    interest    and    influence;    men 
often  plan  to  make  large  benefactions  when 
they  are  dead,  and  waste  the  opportunity  of 
making   richer   gifts   while   they  live.     The 
dead  hand  may  scatter  gold,  but  the  living 
hand  scatters  with  the  gold   that   which    is 
of    greater  worth.     We   shall   save  time  by 
cultivating,   not    only  a  higher   estimate   of 
present  opportunities  and  duties,  but  also  a 
warmer  and    more  generous   appreciation  of 
present  companionship.     Too  often  we  prize 
our  fellows  only  when  they  are  gone.     Death 
lays  his  finger  on  the  lips  of  captious  criticism, 
and  opens  the  eyes  to  previously  unseen  or 
only  half-seen  virtues.     How  true  it  is  that  we 
really  know  those  about  us  only  after  they  have 
left  our  side  and  passed  beyond  the -reach  of 


( 


i;oii>!. 


Tht  Aim  of  Lift. 

our  praise  or  blame!    Many  a  true  heart  is 
chilled  by  neglect;  many  a  willing  hand  is 
paralyzed  by  want  of  quick  and  sympathetic 
cottpcration.     We  look  into  each  other's  faces 
and  see  little  of  what  is  going  on  in  the  soul. 
The  bravest  and  best  often  are  least  demon- 
strative and  least  given  to  complaining;  and 
eyes  that  meet  our  gaze  calmly,  and  with  no 
tell-tale  shadow  of  reproach  or  appeal,  weep 
inwardly  tears  of  bitter  grief  and  unutterable 
longing  for  a  little  human  sympathy  to-day. 
As  soldiers  die  side  by  side   in  battle,  each 
unconscious  of    the  other's    sharp  agony,  so 
often  men  toil  and  strive  within  hand's  reach 
of  each  other,  and  know  not  each  other's  pain. 
It  is  just  that  we  should  love  and  honor  the 
dead,  but  it  is  not  less  just  that  we  should  love 
and  honor  the  living.     Is  there  some  inexora- 
ble law  that  we  should  not  be  generous,  or  even 
fairly  just,  to  our  brothers  and  sisters  while  they 
are  within  the  sound  of  our  voices?     Is  death 
the  only  solvent  that  can  effectually  reduce  the 
barriers  which   ignorance  and  selfishness,  or 
the  paltry  conventionalities  of  society,  build 
up  between  us?    How  often  a  fainting  heart 
would  have  been  inspired  to  fresh  courage  and 
hope  by  words  that  remained  unspoken  till  the 
mute  appeal  from  a  coffin  unlocked  reluctant 


,  true  heart  it 
illing  hand   it 
d  lympathetic 
h  other' t  facet 
on  in  the  soul. 
e  least  demon- 
nplaining;  and 
yr,  and  with  no 
r  appeal,  weep 
ind  unutterable 
tnpathy  to-day. 
in  battle,  each 
harp  agony,  so 
n  hand's  reach 
ch  other's  pain. 

and  honor  the 
:  we  should  love 
;  some  inexora- 
enerous,  or  even 
isters  while  they 
•ices?  Is  death 
ually  reduce  the 

selfishness,  or 
I  society,  build 
a  fainting  heart 
esh  courage  and 
mspoken  till  the 
locked  reluctant 


Saving  Time. 


909 


lips.  Oh,  my  friends,  seize  this  moment  to 
speak  he  word  uf  comfort,  the  word  of  hope, 
the  word  of  appreciation  and  praise!  Save 
time  by  doing  now  the  thing  that  ought  to  be 
done  now.  If  you  have  wronged  any  one,  right 
the  wrong  to-day;  if  you  have  sinned,  repent 
to-day;  if  you  are  impelled  to  reach  out  for 
divine  help,  yield  to  the  impulse  now;  if  you 
are  conscious  that  Christ  calls  you  to  a  larger 
service  of  your  fellow-men,  hear  him  now.  Do 
the  duty  that  liet  next.  Delay  is  time  lost; 
action  is  time  saved  and  life  saved. 

After  all,  this  whole  question  of  how  to  save 
time  is  rightly  answered  by  rightly  answering 
the  question.  Whose  is  your  time?  Who  gives 
it  to  you?  Who  has  an  indefeasible  claim  to 
its  entire  use?  The  recognition  of  God's  claim 
is  the  first  condition  of  the  true  economy  of 
time. 
"  Speak  to  Him  thou,  for  He  heaw,  and  spirit  with  tplrit  can 

Closer  is  He  than  Iveathing,  aad  aearer  than  hands  and  feet. 


14 


.*«»,- 


CHARITY. 


.1-' 


i:W' 


D,D  universal  Charity  prevaU.  Earth  would  be  an  heaven, 
and  heU  a  fable. — Colton. 

YOU  will  find  people  ready  enoujj  to  do  the  Samantan 
without  the  oa  and  two-pence— Sidney  Smith. 

A  Tuscan  coast-guard  reported  to  his  government  that 
♦hll^JbUSThSentaHe  shipwreck  on  the  coast,  and  he 
there  had  uewi  »  •*"  ^^^   „ew  on  board  the 

Mid, "Notwithstanding  »>»»»  V*^*  *^^*^«rf  „y  .peaking- 

ttponVhe  shore  next  mommg.  dead.  -Anonymous. 
%he  highest  exercise    of  charity  is  charity  toward,  the 
«„chariuble.-BucKM«^...  ^^^^^^^^^ 

—  Hbbbert.  , 

GEORGE  Eliot.  judge  not ;...  • 

What  looks  to  thy  dim  eye  a  stain, 
In  God's  pure  light  may  only  be 

A  scar  brought  from  some  *««''<«  »*'°' 

1*  _i»u  »v.  tnnirues  of  men  and  of  angels, 


Charity. 


211 


uld  be  an  heaven, 

Jo  the  Samaritan 

Smith. 
government  that 
the  coast,  and  he 

crew  on  board  the 
of  my  speaking-- 

lodies  were  washed 

mymous. 

karity  towards  the 

e  bridge  over  which 
teed  to  be  forgiven. 

I  come.  It  Is  never 
ut   our  severity.— 


astsdn, 
f  be 

rell-won  field, 
int  and  yield. 
Vdelaidb  Proctor. 
men  and  (rf  angels, 
sounding  brass,  or  a 
he  gift  (rf  prophecy* 
>wledge;  and  though 


I  have  all  faith,  so  that  I  could  remove  mountains,  and  have 
not  charity,  it  profiteth  me  nothing.  Charity  suffereth  long, 
and  is  kind ;  charity  envieth  not ;  charity  vaunteth  not  it- 
self, is  not  puffed  up,  doth  not  behave  itself  unseemly,  seek- 
eth  not  its  own,  is  not  easily  provoked,  thinketh  no  evil; 
rajoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in  the  truth ;  beareth 
all  things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things,  endureth 
all  things. 

Charity  never  faileth.  ....  And  now  aUdeth  faith,  hope, 
charity,  these  three ;  but  the  greatest  of  these  is  charity.  — 
Saint  Paul. 

'T'HE  word  rendered  "  charity "  in  that  mar- 
vellous  prose  idyl,  the  thirteenth  chapter 
of  First  Corinthians,  is  the  Greek  offdirri,  which 
means  love.  The  Vulgate,  or  early  Latin  Ver- 
sion of  the  New  Testament,  rendered  drfdtni  by 
caritas.  This  word,  meaning  "  dearness,  expen- 
siveness,"  and  then  "  esteem,  high  regard,"  and 
even  "  love,"  reappears  in  our  English  "  char- 
ity." Caritas,  or  Charitas  as  it  is  sometimes 
spelled,  is  not  a  true  equivalent  of  arfdirri,  but 
the  Latin  amor,  "  love,"  had  sensual  uses  and 
associations,  surviving  in  our  word  "  amorous," 
that  utterly  unfitted  it  for  expressing  the  spirit- 
ual idea  which  underlies  dydw^  in  New  Testa- 
ment Greek.  This  is  the  reason  why  caritas  in 
the  Latin  Version,  and  "  charity  "  in  the  English 
Version  were  used  to  translate  a  word  which 
means  love  in  its  highest  and  holieiit  sense. 
The  Revised  Version  of  the  English  Bible  accu- 


i  ; 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


rately  renders  the  original,  thus:  '  " J  «P«»^ 
with  the  tongues  of  men  and  of  angels,  but  have 
not  love,  I  am  become  soundmg  brass,  or  a 
clanging  cymbal.  .  .  .  Love  suffereth  long  and 

is  kind Love  never  faileth.    etc. 

The  deep  spiritual  truth  that  Jesus  taught  by 
word  and  deed,  and  that  humanity  is  slowly  but 
surely  learning,  is  this:  Lave  never  fatUtlu    It 
has  perpetuity  because  it  is  imperishable.     He 
who  truly  loves  is  akin  to  God.    Saint  John  said : 
"Every  one  that  loveth  is  born  of  God jmd 
knoweth  God.     He  that  loveth  not  knoweth  not 
God;  for  God  is  love."    The  capacity  for  holy 
love  is  the  clearest  inward  witness  of  mans 
immortality;  that  which  is  of  God  cannot  dj=, 
and  the  spirit  that  loves  participates  m  God» 

eternal  being.  .     

But  we  are  to  consider  now  a  special  aspect 
and  manifestation  of  love;  we  are  to  think  of 
love  practically  working  in  our  every  day  rettK 
tions  with  our  fctk>w-men.  -  our  opinions  of 
them,  our  speech  to  them,  and  our  deeds  a* 
affecting  their   condition    and    characters.      i 
cannot  do  better  at  the  outset  than  to  com- 
ment  freely  on  the  remarkable  character^ atioft 
of  love,  or  charity,  which  Saint  Paul  has  gtven 
us  in  the  seventh  verse  of  the  thirteenth  chajK 
tcr  of  Ftfst  Corinthtans:  '^Charity  beareth  »tt 


Charity. 


Ill 


i:  "If  I  speak 
ngels,  but  have 
ing  brass,  or  a 
fereth  long  and 
"  etc. 

Jesus  taught  by 
ity  is  slowly  but 
ever  failetlu    It 
perishable.    He 
Saint  John  said: 
rn  of  God  and 
[»ot  knoweth  not 
apacity  for  holy 
itness  of  man's 
God  cannot  die, 
cipates  in  God'» 

a  special  aspect 
are  to  think  of 
r  every  day  rel*- 
our  opinions  of 
nd  our  deeds  as 
I   characters.      I 
jet  than  to  coni- 
e  characteriaatioft 
nt  Paul  has  given 
e  thirteenth  chap- 
harity  bearcth  alt 


things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth  all  things, 
endureth  all  things." 

I.  Charity  beareth  all  things.  The  word  "  bear," 
is  the  Greek   verb,  «rTey»,  which  means  "to 
cover."    The  noun,  «rr^  means  "a  roof,"  "* 
covering"  and  often,  "a   room  or  tent"    We 
find  the  verb  used  in  classic  Greek  in  the  sense 
of  "  to  cover  or  conceal,"  and  to  "  fend  off,"  and 
even  "  to  bear  up,  sustain,  support"    Taking  the 
word,  then,  in  its  fully  developed  significance,  we 
see  that  the  phrase, "  Charity  beareth  all  things  |^ 
means, "  Charity  covers,  protects,  and  supports." 
Charity  is  something  more  than  a  benevolent 
disposition  to  supply  the  temporal  needs  of 
men;  though  it  certainly  is  that,  for  it  is  love 
expressing  itself  in  helpful  action.    Christ  and 
the  apostles  inculcate  love  of  man  conjointly 
with  love  of  God ;  but  in  many  minds  these  are 
equally  vague  and  weak,  because  they  have  been 
separated  from  each  other,  and  because  they 
have  been  separated  from  action  ;    thus,  love 
of  man  has  remained  only  a  sentiment  instead 
of  devek>ping  into  passionful  purpose.     In  our 
benevolent  moods  we  fancy  that  we  love  all 
men;  we  are  ready  to  exclaim  with  Terence: 
**  I  am  a  man,  and  I  count  nothing  hmnan  for- 
eign to  me."    But  when  we  are  compelled  by 
the  exigencies  of  life  to  particularuie,  to  coo- 


a  14  The  Aim  of  Life, 

gider  some  concrete  individual,  as  John  Jones 
or  Richard  Smith,  we  discover  that  we  are  very 
far  from  realizing  our  sentiment  in  a  practical 
way;  our  sentiment  proves  to  be  only  senti- 
mentality.    It  is  said  that  once  Eugene  Sue 
was  met  in  the  streets  of  Paris  by  a  woman  m 
tattered  clothes,  who  asked  help  in  her  poverty. 
Sue  refused  to  give  anything,  and  attempted 
to  continue  his  walk,  but  the  woman  stopped 
him,  and  with    piteous    importunity  renewed 
her  request;   again   her    prayer,  was  denied, 
and  this  time  roughly.     Still  she  persisted, 
and  Sue,  turning  angrily  upon  her,  bade  her 
begone,  or  he  would  give  her  over  to  the  police ; 
then  the  woman,  dropping  her  suppliant  tone, 
demanded  in  stem  and   impressive  speech,  if 
this  was  really  Eugene  Sue,   the  celebrated 
advocate  of  the  poor  and  oppressed,  the  man 
who  sa  eloquently  described  and  sympatheti- 
cally lamented  in  his  books  the  hard  lot  of  the 
outcast  and  unfortunate.     Astonished  both  at 
the  tone  and  polished  directness  of  the  woman's 
speech,  the  great  author  asked:    "Who  are 

you  ? "     She  replied,  "  Madame ,"  naming 

one  of  the  most  fashionable  ladies  in  Paris,  and 
one  to  whom  Sue  had  boasted  of  his  benevo- 
lence, and  suddenly  left  him  stunned  and 
conscience-smitten  on  the  sti:eet. 


Charity. 


215 


IS  John  Jones 
at  we  are  very 
in  a  practical 
>e  only  senti-  \ 

Eugene  Sue 

)y  a  woman  in  , 

n  her  poverty. 

and  attempted 

roman  stopped 

unity  renewed 

r.  was  denied, 

she  persisted, 

her,  bade  her 

;r  to  the  police ; 

suppliant  tone, 

sive  speech,  if 

the  celebrated 

essed,  the  man 

nd  sympatheti- 

hard  lot  of  the 

mished  both  at 

of  the  woman's 

ed :    "  Who  are 

: ."naming 

es  in  Paris,  and 
of  his  benevo- 
1   stunned   and 
et.   . 


It  is  easy  to  be  philanthropic  in  speech,  to 
weep  in  books  over  the  sorrows  of  the  world, 
to  be  generous  and  sympathetic  on  paper;  but 
a  real  love  of  humanity,  such  as  Jesus  taught 
and  illustrated,  involves  a  practical  charity 
that  is  ready  to  express  itself  in  deeds  as  well 
as  words  when  confronted  by  concrete  cases  of 
human  need.  "  If  a  brother  or  sister  be  naked, 
and  in  lack  of  daily  food,  and  one  of  you  say 
to  them.  Go  in  peace,  be  wanned,  and  be 
filled,  but  ye  give  them  not  the  things  needful 
for  the  body,  what  does  it  profit?"  Charity, 
like  faith,  if  it  has  not  works,  is  dead. 

But  the  truly  charitable  man  not  only  sup- 
plies the  wants  of  his  fellow-men,  he  also  bears 
with  their  weaknesses  and  faults.  Love  is 
blind,  wisely  and  tenderly  blind ;  it  covers  up 
the  sins  of  others  instead  of  eagerly  seeking 
them  out.  The  good  man  throws  a  mantle  of 
charity  over  many  a  folly  and  transgression; 
he  penetrates  to  the  soul  beneath  the  sin,  and, 
in  a  divine  love  for  that,  shields  instead  of 
condemns  the  sinner. 

There  is  a  vicious  tendency  in  some  natures 
to  seek  out  and  to  advertise  evil ;  this  is  one 
of  the  most  damning  evidences  of  human  degen* 
eracy  and  depravity,  —  this  appetite  for  bad- 
ness.   The  cynic  and  the  scandal-monger  are 


3i6  The  Aim  of  Life. 

open-eyed  for  the  defects  and    misdeeds  of 
others;  they  are  always  on  the  watch  for  some 
flaw  in  speech  or  conduct;  they  prophesy  evil 
of  their  neighbors,  and  under  an  air  of  simu-  ' 
lated  deprecation  and  sadness  disclose  a  revolt- 
ing   exultation  over  a    fall.      "I  am  sorry,"  j 
they  will  say,  "  but  I  expected  it.    I  knew  that 
woman  was  no  better  than  she  ought  to  be;  I 
always  thought  that  man  was  unsound."   Many 
who  do  not  hunt  for  faults  in  others  are  quick 
in  condemnation  when  faults  are  exposed,  hav- 
ing no  defensive,  no  pitying  word  to  speak  for 
the  ill-doer.     As  famished  wolves  are  said  to 
«et  upon  an  injured  companion  and  devoui-  him, 
«>,  often,  men  and  women  show  a  wolfish  dis- 
position toward  those  whom  temptation  has 
overtsdcen  and  thrown. 

Over  against  this  unnatural-natural  disposi- 
tion the  New  Testament  sets  the  charity  that 
bears  all  things,  that  is  slow  to  detect  a  fault, 
that  hastens  to  shield  it  from  the  gaie  of  harsh 
criticism,   that    defends  the  wrong-doer    till 
mercy  shall    exhaust    itself    in    seeking    his 
recovery  before  "  justice"  lets  loose  his  thunder- 
bolts of  penalty.     This  charity  is  not  indiffer- 
ence to  distinctions  between  right  and  wrong; 
indeed  there  is  no  guaranty  of  a  sensitive  con- 
science and  a  clear  moral  judgment  so  strong 


4 


Charity. 


217 


misdeeds  of 
sitch  for  some 
prophesy  evil 

air  of  simu-  ' 
close  a  revolt- 
I  am  sorry," 
I  knew  that 
ught  to  be;  I 
4)und."  Many 
lers  are  quick 

exposed,  hav- 
d  to  speak  for 
'es  are  said  to 
nd  devoui'  him, 
r  a  wolfish  dis- 
emptation  has 

atural  disposi- 
lie  charity  that 

detect  a  fault, 
e  gaze  of  harsh 
rrong-doer  till 
fi  seeking  his 
3se  his  thunder> 

is  not  indi£FeF- 
ght  and  wrong; 
a  sensitive  con- 
;ment  so  strong 


as  a  deep  and  tender  heart.  God  is  unerringly 
just  because  He  is  perfectly  good.  Nor  is 
charity  a  weak  indulgence  toward  sin.  The 
cynic  will  tell  you  that  the  man  who  is  gentle 
with  the  faults  of  others  only  seeks  to  forestall 
judgment  against  his  own;  but  the  contrary  is 
true.  No  man  is  so  faithfully  severe  toward 
himself  as  he  who  is  most  tender  toward  the 
failings  of  others  ;  the  Pharisee  "hurls  the 
contumelious  stone,"  and  is  blind  to  his  own 
defects. 

It  is  of  the  nature  of  true  love  that  it  cannot 
be  put  out  of  countenance  or  thrust  aside  from 
its  sweet  intention  by  any  show  or  force  of 
opposing  evil.  Jesus  could  die  on  the  cross, 
but  he  could  not  be  scourged  or  buffeted  or 
maligned  out  of  his  steadfast  love  for  human 
souls;  and  those  who  most  closely  follow  him 
are  most  obstinate  and  invincible  in  sheer 
goodness.  It  was  on  the  cross  that  Jesus  won 
his  chief  qualification  for  his  divine  function 
of  Judge  of  the  world. 

2.  Clumty  helievetk  all  things.  This  does 
not  mean  that  love  is  weakly  credulous;  but 
rather  that  it  is  not  shrewdly  suspicious.  It 
believes  in  goodness;  and  because  evil  is 
always  more  obtrusive  than  good,  as  pain  is 
always  more  obtrusive  than  pleasure,  has  confi- 


•^ 


A 


\ 


4 


-.1 


m 


3l8 


TAe  Aim  of  Life, 


dence  in  the  existence  of  good  even  beneath 
manifest  evil.     The  charitable  heart  is  slow  to 
credit  evidence  of  guilt.    While  a  selfish  spirit 
is  quick  to  detect  or  to  assume  badness  in  con- 
duct and  to  impute  bad  motives,  the  loving 
spirit  is  quick  to  impute  right  impulses  and  to 
discern  the  obscured  good  which  often  under- 
lies   seeming    perversity    of    conduct.     Love 
believes  in  God,  and  it  believes  in  man,  —  not 
blindly  and  foolishly,  but  with  the  sure  instinct 
for  goodness,  and  the  radical  conviction  that 
righteousness  is  more  vital  and  powerful  than 
unrighteousness.     No  one  can   keep  his  faith 
in  God  who  loses  a  generous  faith  in  humil- 
ity; for  humanity,  despite  its  imperfections 
and  its  grievous  falls,  came  from  God,  is  the 
expression  of  the  divine  love,  and  the  object 
and  sphere  of  the  divine  redemptive  purpose. 
When  Jesus  said  to  his  disciples  "Believe  in 
God,  and  believe  in  me,"  it  was  as  if  he  said: 
"Believe  in  divinity,  and  believe  also  in  the 
ideal  humanity,  for  these  two  are  one." 
.    It  is  not  then  an  undisceming  credulousness 
that  is  expressed    in    the  words:    "  Charity 
believeth  all  things,"  but  a  large  faith  in  that 
possibility  of  goodness  which  is  in  every  human 
soul.   True  charity  is  the  spirit  in  a  man  which 
makes  him   say,  when  he  sees  a  fellow-man 


>d  even  beneath 

heart  is  slow  to 
le  a  selfish  spirit 

badness  in  con- 
ives,  the  loving 

impulses  and  to 
ich  often  under- 

conduct.  Love 
es  in  man,  —  not 

the  sure  instinct 
1  conviction  that 
id  powerful  than 
n  keep  his  faith 

faith  in  humsui* 
its   imperfections 
from  God,  is  the 
e,  and  the  object 
lemptive  purpose. 
:iples  "  Believe  in 
was  as  if  he  said : 
elieve  also  in  the 
>  are  one." 
ling  credulousness 
words:    "  Charity 
large  faith  in  that 
t  is  in  every  human 
irit  in  a  man  which 
sees  a  fellow«man 


Charity, 


19 


buffeted  by  many  trials,  and  struggling  in 
the  toils  of  temptation,  or  even  falling  into 
grievous  error  and  fault:  "I  believe  in  that 
man ;  I  am  sure  he  would  rather  be  right  than 
wrong.  I  will  help  him  and  do  him  good." 
Selfishness  has  coined  the  hateful  maxim: 
"  Count  every  man  a  rogue  until  he  is  proved 
honest."  That  may  be  "worldly  wisdom," 
but  it  is  of  the  Devil,  the  slanderer,  as  diabohs 
means.  Charity  says,  rather,  "Count  every 
man  a  brother,  believe  in  him,  and  overcome 
evil  with  good. " 

3.  Charity  hopeth  all  things.  It  is  not  only 
generously  trustful  and  patient  with  respect  to 
the  present,  but  it  is  also  cordially  hopeful 
with  respect  to  the  future.  Love  :s  the  true 
optimist.  It  steadily  believes  in  the  reality  of 
goodness  amid  all  the  contradictions  of  present 
experience,  and  it  is  joyfully  and  bravely 
expectant  of  the  clear  vindication  and  triumph 
of  goodness  in  the  time  to  come.  It  has  hope 
in  God,  and  therefore  it  has  hope  for  God's 
creatures. 

••  My  own  hope  it,  a  ran  wiU  pierce 
The  thickest  cloud  earth  ever  stretched; 

That,  after  Last,  returns  the  First, 
Though  a  wide  compass  round  be  fetched ; 

That  what  began  best,  can't  end  worst; 
Nor  what  God  blessed  once,  prove  accurst." 


\ 


,,0  The  Aim  of  Life, 

This  hope  is  not  vaguely  general,  —a  nebu- 
lous confidence  in  the  progress  of  the  race 
toward   a  golden    age  of    righteousness  and 
peace.     It  is  particular;  it  individualises  its 
objects.   The  man  in  whom  charity  has  bjcome 
a  pervasive  temper  is  hopeful  with  respect  to 
humanity  at  large;  but  he  is  hopeful  also  with 
respect  to  individual  men  and  women  whom  he 
knows.  -  hopeful  that  the  erring  wiU  see  the 
error  of  their  ways  and  turn  to  the  right ;  hope- 
ful  that  the  weak. will  become  strong;  hopeful 
that  the  bad  will  at  last  come  out.of  their  bad- 
aess  into  the  wisdom  and  health  and  beauty  of 
holiness.     Love  devclofi   in  one  a  personal 
interest  in  the  experiences  and  the  POM^bili- 
^    ties  of  others;    it  interweaves  his  life  witft 
theirs,  and  brings  the  real  oneness  of  mankind 
into  consciousness  so  that  it  ceases  to  be  an 
abstraction  serviceable  merely  to  speculative 
philanthmpists.  and  becomes  a  vital  element 
in  all  his  r'anking,  feeling,  and  action,     ihe 
hope  which  the  Christian  man  cherishes  for 
himself  he  cherishes  for  others  also;  and  this 
hope  becomes  a  formative  influence  in  his  life. 
It  remedies  the  narrowness  of  his  formal  creed; 
it  affects  his  opinions  of  men»  freeing  those 
opinions  from  injustice  and  bitterness;  it  jnits 
warmth  and  helpfulness  into  his  words;  and  it 


Charity, 


til 


ral,  —  a  nebu- 
of  the  race 
teousness  and 
ividualiKcs  its 
ity  has  b^ome 
irith  respect  to 
peful  also  with 
omen  whom  he 
ig  will  see  the 
he  right ;  hope- 
strong;  hopeful 
ut.of  their  bad- 
h  and  beauty  of 
one  a  personal 
d  the  possibili- 
s  his  life  with 
ness  of  mankind 
ceases  to  be  an 
|r  to  speculative 
a  vital  element 
,nd  action.     The 
in  ch«-ishes  for 
-s  also;  and  this 
iience  in  his  life, 
[lis  formal  creed ; 
n,  freeing  those 
itterness;  it  puts 
lis  words;  and  it 


impels  to  actions  that  work  incessantly  toward 
the  realization  of  his  hope  by  making  men 
better,  wiser,  and  happier. 

When  the  world  says  of  the  fallen  soul,  "  He 
is  gone;  nothing  can  be  done  for  him;  let  him 
go,"  love  says:  "No;  there  is  hope,  for  there 
is  life,  and  there  is  God ;  I  believe  in  God  the 
Father  Almighty."  Pagan  peoples  used  to 
expose  to  death  the  weak  and  helpless  —  for 
example,  sickly  infants,  and  sometimes  the 
aged  —  as  unprofitable  burdens  to  be  got  rid 
of  as  soon  as  possible.  The  world  is  still 
pagan,  except  as  it  has  been  penetrated  and 
transformed  by  the  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ.  The 
weak  often  are  pushed  to  the  wall;  they  are 
pitilessly  thrown  aside  to  sink  and  perish. 
Sometimes  you  hear  it  said :  "  That  man  is  not 
worth  saving."  But  love  has  hope  for  even  the 
lost,  and  in  heroic,  divine  contradiction  of  the 
world's  dogmatic  cynicism,  it  seeks  just  those 
who  are  lowest,  and  bears,  believes,  and  hopes 
for  them. 

4.  Chanty  endureth  all  things.  In  these 
words  is  expressed  the  unconquerable  patience 
of  love.  When  all  else  is  gone,  this  is  a  for- 
tress in  which  it  abides.  When  it  can  no 
longer  eover  and  shield;  when  seemingly  it 
is  denied  the  possibility  erf  belief,  and  cannot 


333 


Thi  Aim  of  Lift. 


even  hope  save  by  a  desperate  tour-dt-forct,  — 
then  it  endures,  holding  fast  its  sweetness  of 
spirit,  and  continuing  in  gentle  strength  to  the 
end.  No  one  has  learned  what  patience  is 
until  he  has  learned  to  love  in  some  such  way 
as  God  loves.  In  love  is  the  secret  of  God's 
long-suffering. 

But  enduring  all  things  does  not  by  any 
means  necessarily  imply  loss  of  belief  and  hope 
with  reference  to  love's  object;  it  is  rather 
the  result  and  culmination  of  believing  all 
things  and  hoping  all  things.  When  the  heart 
believes  and  hopes  it  can  endure. 

The  endurance  of  love  is  no  grim  and  stoical 
quality.  It  is  a  patience  full  of  brightness;  it 
is  a  fortitude,  the  strength  of  which  lies  in  the 
very  depth  of  the  heart's  tenderness.  The 
love  that  bears  and  covers  faults  and  offences, 
also  bears  with  them,  —  puts  up  with  that 
which  is  disagreeable  and  troublesome,  and  is 
in  no  way  diverted  from  its  good  intention  by 
the  obstruction  of  things  unlovely  and  evil. 

This  is,  perhaps,  the  very  highest  quality 
of  character,  —  the  charity  that  endures.  A 
man  may  be  upright  and  yet  be  overcome  by 
the  ills  of  life.  The  vices  and  fiuthlessness  of 
his  fellow-men  may  drive  him  into  harshness  of 
temper  and  bitterness  of  speech ;  but  the  man 


■Wi— I— g^ 


t, 

^ur-de-forct,  — 
1  sweetness  of 
strength  to  the 
at  patience  is 
tome  such  way 
ecret  of  God's 

;s  not  by  any 
belief  and  hope 
:;  it  is  rather 
:  believing  all 
iVhen  the  heart 

B. 

;rim  and  stoical 
:  brightness;  it 
hich  lies  in  the 
idemess.     The 
ts  and  offences, 
up  with    that 
blesome,  and  is 
)d  intention  by 
vely  and  evil, 
highest  quality 
lat  endures.     A 
be  overcome  by 
fiuthlessness  of 
nto  harshness  of 
:h ;  but  the  man 


Charity. 


32$ 


whose  uprightness  is  the  vertebral  column  of 
a  robust  and  beautiful  charity  is  invincible  in 
goodness. 

But  lest  we  seem  to  be  dealing  with  fair  but 
impracticable  abstractions,  let  us  consider  the 
theme  from  a  personal  and  practical  point  of 
view.     Charity  is  something  to  exemplify  in 
conduct,  not  something  about  which  to  specu> 
late  and  theorize.     We  come  in  daily  contact 
with  all  sorts  of  people  who  have  all  sorts  of 
dispositions  and  opinions.     We  frequently  en- 
counter people  who  weary  or  irritate  or  disgust 
us.     The  reason  of  their  effect  on  us  may  lie 
partly  in  ourselves  as  well  as  in  them;  but, 
assuming    that  the  fault   is  wholly  or   even 
mainly  theirs,  we  can  live  with  them,  or  near 
them,  in  any  comfortable  or  wholesome  way, 
only  by  fortifying  ourselves  with  a  strong  and 
elastic  charity.     As  it  is,  we  often  suffer  and 
inflict  many  ugly  raspings.     The  seeds  of  ani- 
mosities and  strifes,  of  contempts  and  hatreds, 
fly  in  the  air;  wherever  they  find  a  congenial 
soil,  which  they  always  do  in  the  selfish  heart, 
they  take  root  and,  like  weeds,  grow  without 
cultivation.    Only  love  can  quench  the  bad  life 
of  these,  and  fill  their  places  with  the  flowers 
of  courtesy  and  kindliness.    If  we  take  account 
only'of  the  opinions  and  mental  habits  of  men, 


idmU^tM&M^'iiSBA. .« 


tf4  The  Aim  of  Life. 

r  we  find  abundant  scope  for  the  exercise  of  for- 
bearance.    Often  a  difference  of  opinion  on 
some  question  of  mere  theory  will  thrust  sharp 
enmity  between  two  minds.     If  we  think  our- 
selves right  we  cannot  see  that  he  who  dis- 
agrees with  us  may  also  be  right;  he  must  be 
wrong;  and  so  the  assertion  and  defence  of  our 
personal  opinion  are  sublimed  into  a  vindication 
of  truth,  and  the  other  mans  divergence  front 
our  view  becomes  the  measure  of  Iiis  diver- 
gence from  the  truth.     Thus  differences  grow 
into  antagonisms  and  strifes,  where,  possibly, 
both  disputants  are  mistaken,  or  are  simply 
looking  at  a  subject  from  different  points  of 
view,   like  the   knights  in  the  fable.     One 
declared  that  a  shield  which  hung  between 
them  was  gold;  the  other  asserted  that  it  was 
iilver.    After  their  debate  had  ripened  into  a 
combat,    in  which    each    received    damaging 
blows,  they  discovered  that  the  shield  was  gold 
on  one  side  and  silver  on  the  other;  both  were 
fight  and  both  were  wrong  in  their  affirma- 
tions ;  both  were  entirely  wrong  in  their  spirit. 
The  charitable  man,  while  holding  fast  his 
convictions,  holds  them  always  subject  to  the 
revision  which  fuller  knowledge  may  demand, 
and  he  respects  the  convictions  of  others,  while 
be  is  patient  with  their  faults  and  tender  toward 


?m 


m 


aemiimimm 


i/f. 

exercise  of  for- 

of  opinion  on 
vill  thrust  sharp 

f  we  think  our^- 
lat  he  who  dis- 
jht ;  he  must  be 
'id  defence  of  our 
nto  a  vindication 
divergence  front 
re  of  his  diver- 
differences  grow 
where,  possibly, 

or  are  simply 
ferent  points  oi 
:he  fable.  One 
I  hung  between 
lerted  that  it  was 
ad  ripened  into  a 
:eived  damaging 
e  shield  was  gold 
other;  both  were 
in  their  affirma- 
ng  in  their  spirit, 
holding  fast  his 
ys  subject  to  the 
dge  may  demand, 
ts  of  others,  while 
and  tender  toward 


Charity. 


%2l 


their  mistakes.  His  heart  does  not  go  down 
into  the  arena  of  debate,  but  spreads  its  broad 
mantle  of  toleration  over  all  differences  of 
belief.  We  are  not  to  condone  wickedness  or 
disregard  the  sanctities  of  truth,  for  righteous* 
ness  and  truth  are  infinitely  important;  but 
we  should  be  charitable  to  those  whom  we 
consider  in  error.  Love  always  discriminates 
between  the  thought  and  the  thinker;  Calvin 
may  condemn  the  heresy  of  Servetus,  but  he 
may  not  guiltlessly  burn  Servetus  at  the  stake, 
nor  even  think  vengefully  of  hira. 

A  true  charity  also  qualifies  our  opinion  of 
other  men's  characters.  If  we  have  a  right 
spirit  we  shall  be  slow  to  think  evil  of  our  fel- 
low-men ;  and  we  shall  be  gentle  toward  their 
foibles,  not  making  a  mock  of  them  and  fasten- 
ing upon  them  the  stigma  of  our  ridicule  and 
scorn.  We  shall  be  slow  to  impute  evil  mo- 
tives; and  we  shall  take  account  of  weakness 
and  withhold  condemnation.  That  is  a  noble 
counsel  of  the  apostle's;  take  it  for  a  motto: 
"Be  swift  to  hear;  slow  to  speak;  slow  to 
wrath."  That  describes  the  true  judicial  tem- 
per and  attitude.  Jesus  said :  "  It  is  better  to 
save  life  than  to  destroy;"  these  words  have 
a  far  wider  range  of  application  than  perhaps 
we  have  thought.     You  may  kill  with  a  word 


The  Aim  of  Life. 

w  well  as  with  a  bullet;  and  the  slaying  of 
hope  or  of  courage  in  a  brother's  heart  may  be 
a  more  grievous  murder  than  smiting  the  life 
out  of  the  body.     Few  of  us  appreciate  the 
tremendous  influence  on  those  about  us  of  our 
opinions  and  speech  concerning  them.     What 
we  think  of  children  who  are  in  any  way  under 
our  influence,  and  what  we  say  about  them,  often 
determine  the  moral  tendency  of  their  lives. 
Even  in  maturer  years  many  are  so  susceptible 
to  this  influence  that  they  are  lifted  up  or  cast 
down  by  a  little  talk.     Many  a  young  man, 
fighting  his  way  against  heavy  odds,  has  won  a 
victory  by  the  force  of  some  one's  faith  in  him. 
Who  has  not  felt  all  his  better  nature  roused 
and  invigorated  by  the  thought:   "Some  one 
has  confidence  in  me;  some  one  cares  for  me; 
some  one  thinks  I  can  be  true  and  good. 

I  doubt  not  that  many  a  man  is  in  a  convict  s 
cell  to-night,  or  in  his  grave,  for  want  of  some 
such  word,  for  want  of  that  charity  toward 
him  which  suffereth  long  and  is  kind;  which 
beareth  all  things,  believeth  all  things,  hopeth 
all  things,  endureth  all  things. 

But  charity  should  rule  action  as  well  as 
speech.  An  unkind  deed  is  a  wicked  deed, 
and  often  a  horribly  harmful  deed;  nay,  there 
is  even  an  element  of  baseness  and  cowardli- 


e. 

the  slaying  of 

s  heart  may  be 
miting  the  life 

appreciate  the 

ibout  us  of  our 

them.     What 

any  way  under 
>out  them,  often 

of  their  lives, 
e  so  susceptible 
ifted  up  or  cast 

a  young  man, 
odds,  has  won  a 
e's  faith  in  him^. 
;r  nature  roused 
ht:   "Some  one 
ne  cares  for  me; 
and  good." 
[  is  in  a  convict's 
For  want  of  some 
:  charity  toward 
[  is  kind;  which 
11  things,  hopeth 

tion  as  well  as 

a  wicked   deed, 

deed;  nay,  there 

!ss  and  cowardli- 


gg 


Charity^ 


227 


ness  in  unkind  action.  The  really  brave  man 
is  never  cruel ;  for  bravery  is  far  more  than 
physical  courage,  it  is  moral,  and  has  in  it  a 
heart  of  womanly  tenderness.  There  are  many 
men  who  have  so  great  a  scorn  of  effeminacy 
that  they  forget  the  truth  that  manliness  and 
strength  and  bravery  are  most  highly  devel> 
oped  only  in  the  soul  that  is  fullest  of  love. 
Young  men  are  rather  apt  to  confound  gen- 
tleness with  weakness;  and  sometimes  are 
ashamed  to  be  kind  lest  they  seem  lacking  in 
manly  force  and  fibre.  Let  them  remember 
that  the  gentleman  is  the  gentU  man.  There 
is  profound  truth  in  Thomas  Dekker's  charac- 
terization of  Jesus  Christ  as 

"  Hie  firat  true  gentleman  that  ever  breathed.  ** 

It  is  ever  ^  defect  of  charity  that  makes  the 
strong  cruel,  and  the  fearless  brutaL  There 
is  little  room  for  any  pure  virtue  where  love  is 
not,  for  love  in  its  highest  development  is  the 
sum  of  all  virtues. 

It  is  a  pertinent  question,  especially  at  this 
time  when  we  stand  on  the  threshold  of  a  new 
year:  What  is  our  daily  habit  of  speech  and 
conduct  with  respect  to  our  fellow-creatures? 
There  is  no  doubt  that  the  answer  tQ  this  ques- 
tion will  have  large  place  in  the  final  judgment 


Wm 


Hiiiiiliiiiii 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


on  our  lives;  for  by  so  much  as  we  have  m 
our  hearts  a  true  love  of  man,  have  we  a  true 
love  of  God.  RccaU  Leigh  Hunt's  beautiful 
lines :  — 

«  Abou  Ben  Adhem  (may  Ms  tribe  tociewe  I)  j 

Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace. 

And  saw  within  the  moonlight  in  hte  room, 

Biaking  it  rich  and  Uke  a  Uly  in  bloom, 

An  angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold: 

Exceeding  peace  had  made  Ben  Adhem  bold. 

And  to  the  presence  in  the  room  he  «id. 

'What  writest  thou  ?  '-The  vision  raised  its  head. 
And,  with  a  look  made  of  all  sweet  accord, 
Answered,-*  The  names  of  those  who  love  the  Lord. 
•  And  is  mine  one?'  said  Abou;  •  Nay,  not  so, 
Replied  the  angel.  -  Abou  spake  more  low. 
But  cheerly  still ;  and  said,  •  I  pray  thee,  then. 
Write  me  as  one  that  loves  his  fettownnen. 
The  angel  wrote,  and  vanished.    The  next  night 

He  came  again,  with  a  great  '«^«^"?^.  .  m^_ 
And  showed  their  name,  whom  love  of  God  had  West- 
And,  to  I  Ben  Adhem's  name  led  all  the  rest. 

An  apostle  wrote:  "  He  that  loveth  not  his 
brother  whom  he  hath  seen,  cannot  love  God 
whom  he  hath  not  seen  I  And  this  command- 
ment have  we  from  Him,  that  he  who  loveth 
God  love  his  brother  also."  There  is  no  true 
love  of  God  apart  from  true  love  of  man;  and 
"  we  only  thing  opposed  to  love  of  God  is  love 
of  self."  or  selfishness..    This  is  in  essence  the 


as  we  have  in 

have  we  a  true 

tlunt's  beautiful 


»)  i 

1  of  peace, 

room, 

m, 

lembold, 

■aid, 

ndaed  its  head, 

accord, 

rho  love  the  Lord.' 

ay,  not  so,' 

ore  low, 

thee,  then, 

w-men.' 

lie  next  night 

ing  light, 

e  <rf  God  had  blest— 

\  the  rest." 

at  loveth  not  his 
cannot  love  God 
nd  this  command- 
at  he  who  loveth 
There  is  no  true 
love  of  roan;  and 
ove  of  God  is  love 
;  is  in  essence  the 


ftm 


mmmmm. 


Charity. 


229 


sum-total  of  Jesus's  teaching:  "On  these  two" 
—  love  of  God  with  all  the  heart,  and  love  of 
neighbor  as  self— "hang  all  the  law  and  the 
prophets."  Thus  are  religion  and  philanthropy 
joined  in  holy  wedlock  by  divine  bonds ;  what 
God  hath  joined  together  let  not  man  put 
asunder. 

How  may  we  attain  this  charity,  this  perfect 
grace,  which  we  have  been  considering?  Not 
by  mere  will-work ;  not  merely  by  hard  school- 
ing of  ourselves  in  ways  of  patience  and  kind- 
ness and  prompt  service  to  all  need,— but  rather 
by  the  inspiring  and  uplifting  and  transforming 
touch  of  a  great,  divine  personality.  Compan- 
ionship with  the  son  of  God  is  the  perfect  school 
of  charity.  Learning  from  him  how  to  love,  we 
shall  love  not  him  alone,  but  all  whom  he  loved ; 
and  he  loved  the  whole  world.  Charity  has  its 
deep  root  in  the  capacity  for  the  divine  within 
the  soul.  In  that  knowledge  and  love  of  God 
which  come  to  us  through  the  quickening  con- 
tact with  us  of  Jesus  Christ  is  the  springing 
fountain  of  all  pure  graces  and  sweet  disposi- 
tions. Charity  and  love  are  one,  and  love 
never  faileth;  it  is  of  God,  and  its  strong  heart 
beats  to  the  music  of  God's  eternal  life  and  joy. 


ETHICS  OF  AMUSEMENT. 


IT  i.  not  po«iMe  for  the  bow  alway.  to  be  bent,  nor  to 
f„S  h-i^-re  .0  nudntaln  luelf  without  «,me  lawful' 
recreation. — Cervantes. 

Sport  and  merriment  are  at  time.  aUowable ;  but  we  m«^ 

^S^lm  «.  we  do  leep  and  other  '''--•  ^^i^^l^'^ERa 
Jlle  performed  our  weighty  and  important  ^air..-  Cicero. 

You  om't  Uve  on  amu«ment.    ^J  «»»''•  ^'^J^  ""'**"' " 
Jtol  deep,  and  then  the  mud.-.G«>ROE  Macdona^. 

£:f„^;^ov'StXral«i-U--t  every  twenty. 
;o«rho«i.-THKOi«R.T.Mu«o.R. 

byany.  — Saint  Paul. 

THE  early,  though  now  nearly  obsolete, 
meaning  of  amusement  was  deep 
thought,  mentation,  revery."  Whatever  ^ccu- 
pied'or  deeply  engaged  the  mind  was  said^to 
amuse  the  mind. -for  example,  m  an  old  Eng 
H^h  book  I  find  the  following:  "  Here  I  put  my 
pen  into  the  inkstand  and  fell  intoa  strong  and 


E«®!SM^*:»<«WElWr,  •"rW^<evrsex^m» 


MENT. 


»  ^m 


to  b«  bent,  nor  fot, 
rithottt  some  lawful' 

wable;  butwemust 
s  of  repose,  when  we 
nt  affairs— CiciRO. 

he  froth  on  water,  — 
OE  MacdonaU). 
irselves  from  the  ^• 
rorth  living  even  V  it 
isemsnt  every  twenty- 

B8  of  air  to  the  flame: 
a  put  it  out.— David 

t  all  things  are  exp*- 
I  will  not  be  mastered 


nearly  obsolete, 
ent    was    "deep 

Whatever  occu- 
mind  was  said  to 
le,  in  an  old  Eng- 

"  Here  I  put  my 

into  a  strong  and 


EfAics  of  Amusement.  231 

deep  amustment,  revolving  in  my  mind  with 
great  perplexity  the  amazing  change  of  our 
affairs."    Thomas  Fuller,  in  his  "  Church  History 
of  Britain,"  makes  a  similar  use  of  the  word 
when  he  says:  " Being tfWiM^^' with  grief,  fear, 
and  fright,  he  could  not  find  a  house  in  London 
(otherwise  well-known  to  him)  whither  he  in- 
tended to  go."    Holland,  in  his  translation  of 
Livy,  says :  "  Camillus  set  upon  the  Gauls  when 
they  were  amused  in  receiving  their  gold."    This 
meaning  comes  naturally  from  the  derivation  of 
the  word,  which  is  the  Old  French  a  muser,  "  to 
muse,  to  meditate;"  hence,  the  occupation  of 
an  idle  dreamer  was  called  amusement.    At  last, 
and  quite  recently,  "  amusemefit"   was  exclu- 
sively appropriated    to   designate    that  which 
agreeably  detains  or  engages  the  mind,  and  is 
synonymous  with  pastime,  diversion,  entertain- 
ment, recreation,  sport    So  much  for  the  tech- 
nical meaning  of  the  word.    True  amusement 
involves  that  diversion  by  which  the  activities 
of  the  mind  or  the  body,  or  both,  are  changed, 
the  tension  of  nerves  relaxed,  and  the  mental 
and  physical  forces,  which  have  been  exhausted 
by  work  and  care,  restored  to  freshness  and 

vigor. 

Indulgence  in  certain  kinds  of  readmg,  cer- 
tain forms  of  exercise,  and  certain  spectacles,  as 


JL 


-**&»#;•: 


232  Th9  Aim  of  Lift. 

of  games  or  plays,  may  be  cited  as  examples 
of  amusement    It  is  impossible  here  to  define 
the  specific  forms  which  amusement  may  take ; 
what  is  diverting  differs  with  different  persons.  \ 
Strength,  temperament,  degree  of  culture,  habit 
and  training,  all  enter  into  the  determination  of 
forms  of  amusement.    What  is  entertaining  to 
one  person  often  is  not  entertaining  to  another 
person ;  what  pleases  and  refreshes  at  one  time 
does  not  please  and  refresh  the  same  person  at 
another  time.    The  important  definition  here  is 
the  one  which  defines  amusement  in  a  general 
way  as  that  diversion  of  the  mind  which  pro- 
duces refreshment  and    reinvigoration  of  the 
whole  nature. 

Amusement,  then,  cannot  rightly  be  the  reg- 
ular occupation  or  faain  business  of  life;  it 
must  be  subordinate  to  serious  work.  It  is 
ministrant  to  the  main  end  by  reducing  friction 
and  checking  exhaustion.  The  moment  amuse- 
ment becomes  an  occupation,  that  moment  it 
ceases  to  be  true  amusement  The  professional 
jester  amuses  others,  but  his  vocation  is  not 
properly  an  amusement  to  himself;  and  the 
votary  of  pleasure  who  seeks  only  to  be  amused, 
by-and-by  loses  the  capacity  of  being  amused. 

More  than  that,  the  attempt  to  make  amuse- 
ment a  business  of  life  is  almost  sure  to  have 


whStm 


MWP 


r. 

d  as  examples 
here  to  define 
nent  may  take ; 
Iferent  persons./ 
if  culture,  habit 
etermination  of 
entertaining  to 
ning  to  another 
hes  at  one  time 
same  person  at 
efinition  here  is 
nt  in  a  general 
kind  which  pro- 
roration  of   the 

htly  be  the  reg- 
ness  of  life;  it 
lis  work.  It  is 
reducing  friction 

moment  amuse- 
that  moment  it 
The  professional 

vocation  is  not 
imself;  and  the 
ily  to  be  amused, 
'  being  amused. 

to  make  amuse* 
ost  sure  to  have 


EtAics  of  Amusemmt.  335 


very  ill  effects  on  character.  "  All  work  and  no 
play  makes  Jack  a  dull  boy;  "  but  all  play  and 
no  work  makes  Jack  a  foolish  if  not  a  vicious 
boy,  unprofitable  both  to  himself  and  to  others. 

We  are  so  constituted  that  we  have  a  capacity 
for  amusement ;  to  lose  that  capacity  is  a 
heavy  misfortune.  Our  nature  and  our  work 
in  the  world  are  such  that  we  need  amusement ; 
and  the  need  is  proportioned  to  the  gravity  and 
intensity  of  our  work. 

Our  capacity  for  amusement  and  our  need  of 
amusement,  together  with  the  posiiibility  that 
amusement  may  be  perverted  from  a  means  into 
an  end,  and  also  may  be  infected  with  vice  or 
ruled  by  selfishness,  or  exaggerated  into  damag- 
ing excess,  bring  amusement  within  the  field  of 
morals,  and  make  "  The  Ethics  of  Amusement " 
at  once  a  practical  and  important  subject  for 
consideration. 

Experience  and  reflection  alike  attest  the  im- 
portance of  this  subject ;  it  is  a  subject  often 
ill-understood,  and  often  treated  superficially  or 
unreasonably.  The  Church  has  erred  in  its 
treatment  of  this  subject,  even  while  actuated 
by  the  best  motives. 

Intelligence  and  good  sense  are  the  best  coad- 
jutors of  true  piety  in  dealing  with  the  question 
of  amusements.    Harm  is  done  on  the  one  hand 


J3^  The  Aim  of  Life. 

by  indiscriminate  and  unjust  condemnation  of 
certain  forms  of  amusement,  and  equal  harm, 
perhaps,  is  done  on  the  other  hand  by  lax.ty 
and  indifference  that  result  from  a  want  of 
clearly  defined  principles  and  strong  conviction. 
To  this  vexed  yet  slowly  clarifymg  question 
we  may  apply  at  the  outset  certain  principles 

of  exclusion:—  j.  ^^  ^u. 

1   That  which  does  not  healthily  divert  the 
mind  and  rest  the  body  is  not  true  amusement; 

2.  That  which  is  essentially  «vil  is  not  true 

amusement;  . 

X   That  indulgence  which  w  excessive,  and 

therefore  in  effect  vicious,  is  not  true  amuse- 

"^That  which,  in  itself  morally  indifferent 
and  to  others  harmless,  is  yet  harmful  tyw.  is 
for  you  not  a  true  amusement.  The  harmful- 
ness  may  lie  in  the  fact  that,  because  of  peculiar 
susceptibility  on  your  part,  the  amusement  has 
the  effect  of  lowering  your  moral  tone,  wound- 
ing  your  spiritual  sensibility,  and  hindering  the 
development  of  your  best  life. 

Aside  from  these  simple  principles  of  exclu- 
sion, almost  all  specific  rules  on  this  subject  are 
unsatisfactory  and  inadequate;  the  Procrustean 
method  is  false  as  well  as  cruel.  Jesus  Chns^ 
the  best  teacher  of  essential  ethics  that  the  worid 


*!*■ 


?1^ 


>ndemnation  of 
id  equal  harm, 
hand  by  laxity 
om  a  want  of 
rong  conviction, 
ifying  question 
ertain  principles 


Ithily  divert  the 
rue  amusement ; 
«vil  is  not  true 

^  excessive,  and 
not  true  amuse- 
orally  indifferent 
harmful  to  j'w,  is 
It.  The  harmful- 
ecause  of  peculiar 
e  amusement  has 
oral  tone,  wound- 
ind  hindering  the 

inciples  of  exclu- 
►n  this  subject  are 
;  the  Procrustean 
uel.  Jesus  Christ, 
hies  that  the  world 


Ethics  of  Amustnnnt.  235 

has  ever  seen,  did  not  give  rules  for  the  gov- 
ernment of  life.  The  Pharisees  did  that ;  the 
Pharisees  do  it  still.  But  Jesus  gave  principles, 
and  these  principles  he  imparted  in  a  spirit  of 
life  rather  than  in  specific  precepts ;  the  few 
precepts  which  he  did  give  are  only  particular 
applications  of  the  fundamental  principles  of 
the  spirit  of  life. 

Life  is  the  true  guide  of  life.  The  spirit  and 
point  of  view  of  Jesus  serve  us  better  than  any 
system  of  rules,  for  these  are  radical  and  under- 
lie all  right  conduct  The  highest  principle  of 
life,  the  principle  which  Jesus  gives  us  In  his 
spirit  and  point  of  view,  is  the  principle  of  love : 
"Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thyself."  I 
say  nothing  now  about  the  preceding  word : 
"  Thou  shalt  love  God  with  all  thy  heart,"  for 
in  essence  these  two  are  one.  Love  of  God 
and  love  of  man  are  indivisible  in  fact,  how- 
ever widely  we  may  have  separated  them  in 
our  theories;  sometimes,  alas,  they  are  made 
theoretically  oppugnant,  almost  mutually  ex- 
clusive. 

"Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as  thsrself:" 
here  is  the  spring  of  all  sound  and  sufficient 
ethical  principles.  There  is  a  true  self-love  that 
is  not  only  perfectly  accordant  with  a  true  love 
of  our  neighbor,  but  is  also  its  norm. 


9S6 


The  Aim  of  Lift. 


m- 


Under  this  general  principle  of  love,  the  ethi- 
cal character  of  amuaements  is  determined:— 
I    By  tkttffect  of  amusements  OH  stlf.    Amuse- 
ment.  being  not  strictly  an  end  but  a  means,  in 
order  to  be  ethically  sound,  that  is  right,  ought 
to  have  the  effect  on  ourselves  of  wholesome 
diversion  and  rest.     It  ought  to  refresh  our 
minds  and  bodies,  restore  the  disturbed  balance 
of  our  powers,  and  leave  us  toned  up  for  the  best 
kind  of  life.    It  should  minister,  in  this  way, 
to  the  best  that  is  in  us:  it  should  make  easier 
our  best  work.    Lest  I  seem  to  give  too  positive 
and  high  a  function  to  amusement,  let  me  say 
that,  at  least,  it  must  not  have  an  effect  contrary 
to  that  which  I  have  described  ;  it  must  not. 
while  relaxing  the  tension,  let  down  the  essen- 
tial tone  of  our  minds  to  a  low  level ;  it  must  not 
hurt  or  debase  our  finer  sensibilities.     It  must 
not  cheapen  duty,  nor  wound  our  consciences, 
nor  lessen  our  taste  for  the  good  and  the  true ;  it 
must  not  render  us  any  less  sensitive  to  spiritual 
influences,  nor  cloud  the  vision  of  the  inner  eye. 
Of  course  any  sort  of  diversion  that  harma 
us  physically  should  be  rigorously  excluded. 
But  many  are  prompt  to  recognize  the  truth 
of  this  statement,  who  do  not  as  quickly  and  as 
profoundly  appreciate  the  importance  of  guard- 
ing our  higher  nature  from  hurtful  invasion. 


fi.    . 

►f  love,  the  ethl- 
determined : — 
0Hi€lf,    Amuse- 
but  a  means,  in 
is  right,  ought 
i  of  wholesome 
to  refresh  our 
iisturbed  balance 
>d  up  for  the  best 
ter,  in  this  way, 
ould  make  easier 
give  too  positive 
sment,  let  me  say 
an  effect  contrary 
ted  ;  it  must  not. 
:  down  the  essen- 
level ;  it  must  not 
ibilities.     It  must 
d  our  consciences, 
od  and  the  true ;  it 
msitive  to  spiritual 
n  of  the  inner  eye. 
ersion  that  harms 
orously  excluded, 
cognize  the  truth 
:  as  quickly  and  as 
portance  of  guard- 
hurtful  invasion. 


Ethics  of  Amusement.  337 

We  ought  always  to  keep  in  mind  the  true 

values  of   life.     Always  the  spiritual  should 

dominate  the  physical;  the  higher  is  meant 

to  give  the  law  to  the  lower.     This  is  not  to 

assent  for  a  moment  to  the  old   Manichean 

error  that  the  body  is  evil,  and  that  holiness 

consists  chiefly  if  not  solely  in  crushing  down 

and  eradicating  all  the  instincts  and  impulses 

which  have  their  seat  and  source  in  the  flesh. 

From  the  ideal  point  of  view,  which  is  ever 

the  true  spiritual  point  of  view,  Browning  is 

right  when  he  exclaims,  — 

"  All  good  things 
Are  oura,  nor  (otil  helps  flesh  more 
Now  than  flesh  helps  soul  I " 

But  in  our  slow  emergence  from  the  animal, 
which  is  the  bestial  and  selfish,  we  need  con- 
tinually to  be  on  our  guard  that  the  nascent 
and  delicate  life  of  the  spirit  be  not  choked 
and  suppressed  by  the  flesh. 

Enjoyment  of  mirth  and  pleasure  is  an  inci- 
dent and  accompaniment  of  life,  not  its  end ;  a 
needed  interruption  of  strenuous  toil,  not  its 
object.  As  "the  life  is  more  than  meat  and 
the  body  than  raiment,"  so  the  play  and  frolic 
of  our  leisure  hours  are  to  wait  upon  and  be 
subservient  to  the  great  aims  and  aspirations 
and  endeavors  of  the  soul. 


in 


238 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


It  should  be  clearly  understood  that  amuse- 
ment,  by  the  refreshment  which  it  brings,  is 
meant  to  lessen  the  friction  of  labor,  not  to 
usurp  the  place  of  labor;  and,  therefore,  if 
amusement  in  any  way  hinders  high  thought, 
or  brings  any  taint  of  impurity  into  the  mind, 
or  hurts  the  spirit,  indulgence  in  it  is  a  wrong 
done  to  self.  The  noble  self-regard  of  love 
condemns  it.  and  the  wisdom  of  love  excludes  it. 

The    ethical    character    of    amusements   is 

determined :  — 

2    By  the  effect  of  our  amusements  on  others. 
Our  diversion  must  work  no  ill  to  our  neigh- 
bors;  here  love  is   imperative.     That  which 
amuses  me,  but  at  the  same  time  does  harm  to 
some  one  else,  by  its  very  harmfulness  to  him 
becomes  unlawful  to  me.     To  indulge  self  at 
another's  expense  violates  the  supreme  law  of 
love.    The  application  of  this  principle  is  very 
wide     There  is  need  here  of  careful  and  dis- 
criminating  thought,  for  the  application  of  the 
principle  must  be  made,  for  the  most  i»rt.  by 
Lh  one  for  himself.     On  the  mere  physical 
plane  it  is  easy  to  see  that  amusement  which 
causes  material  damage,  or  even  annoyance,  to 
our  neighbor  ought  to  be  abandoned.     Indeed, 
on  this  plane  our  neighbor  has  protection  and 
redress  afforded  him  by  the  laws  of  the  land, 


t>Ut....jitWWHl  ■i'.W'*>Lii»,'n"' 


f  «f.t^':V.-:--^«r' 


(ww.waeiwrr'sr  ■ 


— mfiiffiiff-  --'i -^ 


\/e. 

od  that  amuse- 

it  brings,  is 

I  labor,  not  to 

id,  therefore,  if 

s  high  thought, 

r  into  the  mind, 

in  it  is  a  wrong 

f-regard  of  love 

love  excludes  it. 

amusements   is 

emeHts  on  others. 
ill  to  our  neigh- 
«re.  That  which 
ime  does  harm  to 
rmfulness  to  him 
b  indulge  self  at 
e  supreme  law  of 
\  principle  is  very 
f  careful  and  dis- 
application  of  the 
the  most  part,  by 
;he  mere  physical 
amusement  which 
(Ten  annoyance,  to 
ndoned.  Indeed, 
las  protection  and 
laws  of  the  land, 


Ethics  of  Amusement.  339 

at  least  within  certain  large  limits.  But  the 
worst  damage  which  by  our  selfishness  we 
inflict  upon  others  is  not  material.  It  is  an 
evil  thing  to  maim  a  brother  in  body,  or  to 
injure  his  possessions ;  but  this  sort  of  harm  is 
trifling  compared  with  the  harm  we  may  do  to 
the  mind  or  feelings  or  spiritual  life  of  our 
brother.  There  is  no  human  legislation  which 
covers  the  wide  field  of  our  deeper  moral  rela- 
tions. There  is  no  effective  protection  of  men 
from  our  strongest  and  subtlest  influence,  sav^ 
that  which  itself  is  spiritual,  —  either  the  im- 
pregnable  character  of  others,  or  our  own 
strong  and  clear-sighted  self-restraint.  Saint 
Paul  once  said,  "  We  then  that  are  strong  ought 
to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak,  and  not  to 
please  ourselves."  It  is  a  noble  sentiment, 
springing  from  the  very  heart  of  Christ ;  it  is 
the  same  as,  "Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbor  as 
thyself."  And  the  self -regulation  which  this 
sentiment  imposes  is  not  put  upon  us  from 
without ;  its  great  merit  lies  in  the  fact  that  it 
rises  spontaneously  in  the  loving  and  chastened 
heart.  It  is  not  an  external  law  that  you  shall 
not  cause  your  brother  to  stumble  by  doing 
that  which,  pleasant  and  harmless  for  yourself, 
is  yet,  because  of  bis  weakness,  harmful  to 
him ;  it  is  the  mandate  of  love  in  your  heart. 


II 


a40  The  Aim  of  Life. 

—  that  love  which  can  joyfully  suppress  self 
for  the  sake  of  conferring  a  benefit  on  another 
or  warding  from  him  a  danger.    A  fine  example 
of  what  I  mean,  and  one  that  is  well  known, 
though  it  is  often  misinterpreted  and  misap- 
plied, is  that  furnished  by  Saint  Paul,  where 
he  says:  "If  eating  meat  cause  my  brother  to 
stumble,"  —  that  is,  if  my  eating  food  which 
has  been  consecrated  to  idols  (a  thing  wholly 
unimportant  and  harmless  to  me)  cause  my 
brother,  not  yet  freed  from  superstition,  to  do 
the  same  thing,  thereby  wounding  his  weak 
conscience  and  letting  him  down  on  a  plane 
where  he  is  sure  to  fall  into  real  sin,  —  if  my 
eating  meat  cause  this  damage  to  my  brother, 
"  I  will  eat  no  meat  while  the  world  stands." 
This   is    the    language    and    act    of    heroic 
unselfishness,  in  the  exercise   of  which  one 
tastes  a  pleasure  such  as  no  coveted  indulgence 
can  give.     "  I  can  afford,"  says  the  true  soul, 
-to  forego  this  or  that  gratification  of  my 
appetites;  but  I   cannot  afford  to  burden  or 
wound  a  brother  in  his  struggle  upward  into 
the  life  of  the  spirit." 

Now,  apply  this  principle  to  the  matter  of 
amusements.  It  is  high  ground  for  us  to 
occupy;  but  we  ought  to  be  unwilling  to  take 
any  lower  ground.    When  we  have  attained  to 


.  ^-  ,^v**«W*WW<**«rW.- 


'wmmrf-':- 


i/e. 

ly  suppress  self 
nefit  on  another 
A  fine  example 
is  well  known, 
;ted  and  misap- 
lint  Paul,  where 
se  my  brother  to 
ting  food  which 
,  (a  thing  wholly 
)  me)  cause  my 
iperstition,  to  do 
inding  his  weak 
iown  on  a  plane 
eal  sin,  —  if  my 
;e  to  my  brother, 
le  world  stands." 
act    of    heroic 
\e  of  which  one 
tveted  indulgence 
ys  the  true  soul, 
itification  of  my 
ird  to  burden  or 
ggle  upward  into 

to  the  matter  of 
round  for  us  to 
unwilling  to  take 
e  have  attained  to 


Ethics  of  Amusement.  241 

a  nobler  manhood  and  womanhood,  we  shall  be 
incapable  of  taking  any  lower  ground. 

The  principle  which  I  have  been  setting 
forth  often  is  misapplied  and  abused.  That 
increases  the  difficulty  of  truly  applying  the 
principle,  perhaps ;  but  the  difficulty  must  not 
defeat  our  purpose  to  live  in  accordance  with 
its  lofty  morality.  Often  assumed  weakness 
is  nothing  more  than  contentiousness  and 
censoriousness ;  often  the  "  weak  "  brother  who 
demands  the  application  of  this  principle  in 
his  own  behalf  is  in  need  of  sharp  discipline 
rather  than  of  concession  to  his  demands.  He 
is,  in  the  moral  realm,  what  the  "dead  beat" 
is  in  the  economic  realm ;  he  raises  a  false 
issue  and  sets  up  a  false  standard  of  judgment. 

Saint  Paul's  words  have  been  used  some- 
times as  a  justification  of  a  kind  of  moral  med- 
dlesomeness which  masquerades  under  the  garb 
of  zeal  for  moral  reform.  The  apostle  encoun- 
tered it,  and  roundly  rebuked  it  with  the  words : 
"Who  art  thou  that  judgest  thy  brother?  To 
his  own  Master  he  standeth  or  falleth."  We 
encounter  it  still,  with  a  miserable  perversion 
of  Saint  Paul's  words  in  its  mouth.  Never 
mind;  the  principle  of  self-denial  for  another's 
sake  is  sound  and  wise  and  beneficen>.  It  is 
the  principle  of  love,  which  is  the  principle  of 

16 


'Jmm 


242  The  Aim  of  Life. 

Christ  and  is,  at  bottom,  the  principle  of 
Sarright'eousness.  Get  the  P-^P  ^ 
clearly  apprehended  in  your  minds  and  deeply 
rocked  in  your  hearts,  and  the  app  icat.on  of  ^ 
to  spec  fie  cases  will  be  as  instinctive  as  breaA- 
iLand  as  unerring  as  human  action  evens 

There  is  wide  scope  for  pure  and  refreshing 
amusement     No  one's  real  liberty  is  abridged 
bv  Zr  for  what  love  clearly  forbids  belongs 
lZ.^\r.  not  of  liberty,  but  of  bondage  - 
the  bondage  of  selfishness.     The  right  course 
s  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  any  amusements 
wWch.  by  the  weakness  of  those  about  you. 
are  made  harmful  to  their  best  life. 
"These  principles  which    of  necessity    are 
here  stated  so  briefly,  and  which  t^"e  is  not 
spice  now  more  fully  to  ill«.t,ate.   um^h  the 
L  and  sufficient  ethical  test  of  all  kinds  o 
amusement.    There  is  no  rule,  and  no  «et  ^* 
rules  by  which  we  can  determine  off-hand  the 
Sfulness  or  wrongfulness  of  any  specific 
amusements  that  in  themselves  are  not  mtm^ 
sicallv  evil.     Such  as  are  intrinsically  evil  are 
notof  course,  true  amusements,  and  he  out^ 
Sof  our  present  field  of  d«^«f  <>«-_.^"V 
what  of  games,  dancing,  and  play-going?  These 
:^d  many  otier  sorts  of  f  version  In  vogue 
^ong  men  cannot  be.  with  any  justice,  cate- 


.f^tehpBB'WWW****'^  ■ " 


..:,.,rimti^^^i^4i-»msi 


ptuum^illt!' 


mm 


le  principle  of 
the   principle 
inds  and  deeply 
application  of  it 
nctive  as  breath- 
action  ever  is. 
eand  refreshing 
jerty  is  abridged 
-  forbids  belongs 
ut  of  bondage, — 
The  right  course 
any  amusements 
those  about  you, 
»t  life. 

of  necessity,   are 
rhich  there  is  not 
strate,  furnish  the 
Mt  of  all  kinds  of 
ule,  and  no  set  of 
rmine  off-hand  the 
ss  of  any  specific 
Ives  are  not  intrin- 
itrinsically  evil  are 
Dents,  and  lie  out- 
f  discussion.     But 
play-going?  These 
diversion  in  vogue 
h  any  justice,  cate- 


Ethics  of  Amusemeni. 


843 


gorically  pronounced  right  or  wrong.  They 
may  be  innocent,  or  they  may  be  noxious, 
according  to  time,  circumstance,  and  individual 
conditions.  Whether  they  are  innocent  or 
noxious  in  each  particular  case  must  be  deter- 
mined by  the  application  of  these  tests,  — the 
effect  on  self,  and  the  effect  on  others.  The 
effect,  moreover,  must  not  be  measured  only 
by  physical  or  mental  standards,  but  also  by  a 
spiritual  standard.  We  are  bound  to  seek  the 
best  life  always,  both  for  others  and  for  our- 
selves. Whatever  makes  against  the  best  life 
must  be  let  alone,  if  we  would  climb  upward 
and  help  upward  those  who  are  about  us. 

There  is,  then,  no  easy,  prescriptive  way  of 
settling  this  question  of  the  ethical  character 
of  amusements.  Many  wish  that  there  were 
such  a  way.  To  those  it  would  be  a  relief  to 
have  the  church  or  the  pastor  pronounce 
authoritatively  with  reference  to  this  matter. 
It  is  easier  to  obey  an  explicit  command  than 
to  determine  one's  course  by  the  exercise  of 
intelligence  and  judgment.  Many  times  the 
question  is  put  to  the  Christian  minister: 
"May  I  do  this?  May  I  have  that ? "  Rightly, 
young  children  to  a  large  degree  must  be  sub- 
ject to  authority;  for  a  child  can  be  trained  in 
moral  habits  before  he  can  apprehend  moral - 


.-.riHitM-'M't'nrx.-- 


mm 


244  ^T/i*  Aim  of  Lift. 

principles,  and  the  experience  and  J"dpn«»' °^ 
parents  and  teachers  must  protect  htm  from 
evils  that  he  can  neither  see  nor  understand. 
Even  in  the  case  of  children  the  authonty  «, 
only  temporary,  and  is  but  as  a  fence  about  a 
growing  tree  until  it  has  attamed  a  certain 
height  and  strength. 
«Thouh«t  marked  th.dowrtae  of  th.tree.-howlU  .tern 

m  "^"*th.  kia-.  lip.  the  .tag'.  «.tl.r,  tb«i  -fdr 

outbiint 
The  fan-branches  all  round. 

But  prescription  in  morals  has  narrow  limits. 
No  matter  how  much  we  may  wish,  in  moments 
of  weakness  or  perplexity,  to  escape  the  neces- 
sity of  deciding  moral  questions  for  ourselves, 
we  cannot  do  so.     This  is  the  permanent  "id 
essential  condition  of  the  moral  life,  that  each 
must  make  decisions  for  himself.     Seek  advice 
from  those  whose  knowledge  and  wisdom  you 
trust;  exercise  a  careful  observation,  for  thus 
you  will  learn  much  that  will  be  of  highest 
value  in  forming  your  judgments;  profit  by 
the  experience  of  others;  and  study  and  grasp 
the  principles  of  right  conduct  which  are  set  be- 
fore you  in  the  teaching  and  example  of  Jesus 
Christ.    All  this  will  help  you;  but,  after^all. 
you  must  make  decisions,  and  the  product  of 


f. 

id  judgment  o! 
tec'c  him  from 
K  understand. 
tie  authority  is, 
fence  about  a 
ined  a  certain 


tree,— how  iu  atem 
)  antler;  theuiafely 


,  narrow  limits, 
ish,  in  moments 
icape  the  neces- 
is  for  ourselves, 
s  permanent  and 
il  life,  that  each 
If.     Seek  advice 
and  wisdom  you 
rvation,  for  thus 
U  be  of  highest 
nents;  profit  by 
study  and  grasp 
which  are  set  be- 
example  of  Jesus 
)u-,  but,  after  all, 
d  the  product  of 


Ethics  of  Amusement.  345 

decisions  is  character,  and  character  is  at  once 
life  and  destiny.  The  choice  of  amusements, 
add  the  decisions  by  which  indulgence  in  them 
is  regulated,  are  as  essential  a  part  of  your 
moral  discipline  in  the  world  as  the  choice  of 
your  main  work  in  life  and  the  successive  deci- 
sions by  which  you  prosecute  that  work  to  its 
justifying  end. 

While,  then,  on  the  question  of  the  wrong- 
fulness and  evil  of  sin,  either  as  a  diversion 
or  as  a  serious  engagement,  there  is  a  clear 
"Thus  saith  the  Lord,"  as  well  as  a  clear  Thus 
saith  human  experience,  which  is  only  another 
form  of  "Thus  saith  the  Lord;"  on  the  ques- 
tion of  the  rightness  or  wrongness  of  a  specific 
act  that  in  itself  is  morally  indifferent  and 
becomes  wrong  only  in  certain  relations  and 
under  certain  circumstances,  there  is  no  cate- 
gorical imperative.  The  large  principle  of 
love  to  God  and  self  and  fellow-man  furnishes 
the  only,  but  sufficient,  guide  to  decisions 
which  each  must  make  for  himself.  It  is  in 
making  these  choices  that  the  soul  grows  into 
the  strength  and  liberty  of  righteousness,  or 
sinks  into  the  bondage  and  weakness  of  habi- 
tual self-indulgence. 

In  conclusion,  I  offer  you  somfr  words  of 
counsel  which,  without  supplying  any  facti- 


^v^J^^sr^i&v^^-'-^-'  '■ 


246  The  Aim  of  Life. 

tiou.  authority,  without  gM»f  V^"  ^^^^^^ 
where  you  need  a  tonic,  will,  I  humbly  hope, 
Tw  you  in  making  the  decisions  that  sho^d 
control  your  indulgence  in  amusement,  of  what- 

"^^l  Do'not  indulge  in  any  amusements,  howi- 
ever  lawful  they  may  seem  to  yo«.   "^P^^ 
because  others  indulge  in  them.     Stand  on 
v^wown  feet;   learn  your  own  weaknesses 
irdargers.  and  never  be  ashamed  of  avoidmg 
"at  which  may  do  you  needless  physica  harm 
or  which  may  take  the  fine  edge  off  ^^^^^^ 
oerception.  or  lower  the  tone  of  your  spiritual 
Sr  Periaps  another  can  do  what  you  cannot 
io  without  reat  risk  and  even  actual  damag. 
Cultivate  the  moral  courage  to  think  and  act 
for  yo^  self .  under  the  high  duty  of  mora  self- 
p^s'e^tio;     If   you  cannot  ^--^-^^^f^ 
going  to  excess,  or  without  leaving  a  shadow 
5f  compunction  on  your  conscience,  or  without 
dropping  down  a  little  in  your  spiritual  tone, 
t^rU'strong  enough  and  brave  eiough^o 
accept  your  limitations,  and  say    No    to  the 
^tat'ng  invitation.     K  you  ^^\^^^^ 
the  theatre  without  having  the  fibre  o    your 
feeling  strained  or  coarsened,  or  without  hav^ 
W  an  unreal  coloring  and  an  unwhol^ome 
favor  imparted  to  your  life,  then  be  brave 


iiiiigB******'*'*'*"*™'*'*'" 


liiM 


r  you  crutches 
[  humbly  hope, 
ms  that  should 
ements  of  what^ 

lusements,  howi- 
to  you,  simply 
lem.     Stand  on 
)wn  weaknesses 
imed  of  avoiding 
iS  physical  harm, 
re  off  your  moral 
oi  your  spiritual 
what  you  cannot 
n  actual  damage, 
to  think  and  act 
uty  of  moral  self- 
it  dance  without 
leaving  a  shadow 
lience,  or  without 
lur  spiritual  tone, 
brave  enough  to 
say  "  No"  to  the 
^ou  cannot  go  to 
the  fibre  of  your 
d,  or  without  hav- 
an  unwholesome 
■e,  then  be  brave 


•«- -^TTT'faPJ"'  "-fe''' 


Ei/tus  of  Amuiimmt.  147 

enough  and  strong  enough  to  turn  your  back 
on  the  theatre.  If  you  cannot  play  certain 
games  without  being  tempted  to  do  that  which 
would  bring  a  blush  to  your  cheek  when  you 
pray  "  Lead  us  not  into  temptation,"  then  be 
brave  enough  and  strong  enough  to  forswear  • 
those  games,  however  innocent  in  themselves 
they  may  appear  to  be. 

These  specific  cases  are  cited  here  merely  as 
representative  examples.  T^  .  principle  is,  do 
only  that,  even  for  fun  and  pleasure,  which  you 
can  do  with  entire  safety  to  your  best  life. 

2  Keep  continually  in  mind  that  all  amuse- 
ments which  are  essentially  selfish  are,  for  that 
very  reason,  to  b6  rejected  as  evil.  However 
attractive  they  may  be,  they  are  malign,  and 
therefore,  in  consideration  of  the  true  ends  of 
life,  are  not  in  any  just  sense  legitimate.  All 
indulgence  of  pleasure  that  is  selfish  is  attrac- 
tive only  to  the  mind  that  is  unresponsive  to 
the  sweet  attraction  of  pure  benevolence. 

3.  In  all  things  avoid  excess.  Most  sins 
are  sins  of  abuse.  Excess  is  an  immoral  inver- 
sion of  values  and  uses.  There  is  a  certain 
truth  in  the  saying,  "Ihere  may  be  too  much 
of  a  good  thing."  It  is.  more  accurate  to  say 
that  whatever  passes  the  golden  mean  of 
moderation  ceases  to  be  good;  the  goodness 


tJMliiiWiiii-iifffliffi'r 


348 


Thi  Aim  of  Life. 


r 


passes  out  as  the  excess  comes  in.     Intemper- 
ance  is  always  a  vice,  in   playing  as  truly  as 
in  drinking  wine;  and  intemperance  always 
weakens  and  harms  its  victim.     An  occasional 
visit  to  a  clean  theatre  may  give  rest  to  the 
tired  brain  and  refreshment  to  the  jaded  sensi- 
bilities.    Continuous  play-going,  especially  to 
the  average  theatre,  rarely,   if  ever,  benefits 
one;    on  the  contrary,  it   is  almost   sure  to 
deprave  both  mind  and  heart,  and  to  destroy 
zest  for  the  real,  every-day  life  of  the  world. 
That  there  are  exceptions  to  this  may  be  taken 
for  granted,  but  the  exceptions  are  rare.     The 
moment  the  line  of  pure  refreshment  and  of 
rest,   or   of    wholesome   mental   stimulus,    is 
passed,  that  moment  evil  begins. 

4.   Finally,   deliberately  make   amusement 
wholly  subordinate  to  the  high  and  noble  ends 
of  life,  —to  the  best  thought,  the  purest  feel- 
ing  and  the  worthiest  work.     There  are  many 
pure  amusements  that  fortify  virtue  as  well  as 
divert  the  mind.    Fun  has  rightly  a  large  place 
in  life;  often  laughter  is  the  most  medicinal 
thing  that  can  come  into  our  lives.     Sombre- 
ness  is  not  conducive  to  health  of  body  or  of 
soul.    We  need  more  real  mirth,  not  less;  we 
need  more  play  than  most  of  us  have.     Labor 
often  becomes  a  slavery.     Let  us  meet  the 


xfe. 

I  in.     Intemper- 
ying  as  truly  as 
iperance  always 
An  occasional 
give  rest  to  the 
I  the  jaded  sensi- 
ng, especially  to 
if  ever,  benefits 
almost  sure  to 
,  and  to  destroy 
ife  of  the  world, 
his  may  be  taken 
IS  are  rare.     The 
Ereshment  and  of 
ital   stimulus,    is 
;ins. 

nake   amusement 
;h  and  noble  ends 
t,  the  purest  feel- 
There  are  many 
^  virtue  as  well  as 
jhtly  a  large  place 
le  most  medicinal 
ir  lives.     Sombre- 
alth  of  body  or  of 
lirth,  not  less;  we 
I  us  have.     Labor 
Let  us  meet  the 


Ethics  of  Amusement. 


349 


I 


grim  struggles  and  trials  of  life  with  a  brave 
gayety ;  but  let  us  remember  also  that  amuse- 
ments, as  they  are  commonly  understood,  have 
only  a  relatively  small  place  in  an  earnest  life. 
As  one's  capacities  become  enlarged,  his  tastes 
purified,  and  his  aims  exalted,  he  has  less  and 
less  concern  over  the  question  of  "the  ethics 
of  amusement,"  at  least  on  his  own  account. 
He  finds  that  the  richest  pleasures  are  highest 
up.     As  the  spirit  attains  more,  the  senses 
demand  less.     There  is  a  world  of  beauty  and 
light  and  joy  about  and  above  us.     In  the  pro- 
gress of  man  toward  the  good  and  the  true, 
new  delights  are  continually  disclosing  them- 
selves to  his  eye,  and  pleasure  is  sublimed  into 
joy  that  brings  no  sorrow  and  wherein  is  no 
excess.    He  who  rises  into  the  life  of  the  spirit 
learns  soon  the  meaning  of  Saint  Paul's  words: 
"All  things  are  lawful   for   me,  but  not  all 
things  are  expedient;  all  things  are  lawful  for 
me,  but  I  will  not  be  mastered  by  any."     He 
learns  also  the  true,  deep  meaning  of  Saint 
Augustine's  words :  "  Love,  and  do  all  things." 
What  I  have  been  saying  implicitly  in  all 
this  discussion,   I   now  say  explicitly:  Take 
the  spirit  of   life  which  Jesus  reveals  as  the 
guide  of  your  life;  let  love  rule..   Let  him, 
the  Son  of  God,  the  Lover  and  Saviour  and 


Tkt  Aim  of  Lift. 


^  Lord  of  your  soul,  give  at  once  the  law  and  the 
unwaating  impulse  of  your  life.  He  w|  lead 
you  into  sweet  and  lasting  health;  he  will  give 
you  the  sure  wisdom  which  solves  the  problems 
of  each  day  as  it  comes,  because  it  is  the  ever- 
transparent,  inevitable  wisdom  of  God. 

There    is    enduring    happiness  as  well   as 
enduring  profit  only  in  the  life  that  rings  true 
to  the  stroke  of  Jesu.'s  saying :  "  He  that  loveth 
his  life  shall  lose  it,  and  he  that  loseth  his  life 
for  my  sake  shall  find  it."    I  cannot  do  better 
than  to  close  with  the  brave,  strong  words  of 
Thomas   Carlyle:   "Love  not  pleasure;  love 
God.     This  is  the  everlasting  Yea  wherein  all 
contradiction  is  solved;  wherein  whoso  walks 
and  works,  it  shall  be  well  with  him." 


Ifi, 

the  law  and  the 
>.  He  will  lead 
1th;  he  will  give 
res  the  problems 
le  it  is  the  ever- 
I  of  God. 

less  as  well  as 
B  that  rings  true 
"  He  that  loveth 
lat  loseth  his  life 
cannot  do  better 
strong  words  of 
t  pleasure;  love 
;  Yea  wherein  all 
rein  whoso  walks 
th  him." 


READING. 


A  GOOD  book  to  the  precious  life-Wood  of  a  mMteMplril 
•mbalmed  und  treuured  up  on  purpoM  to  •  life  beyond  life. 

—  Milton. 

In  book*  lie  the  creative  Phoenlx-whee  of  the  whole  Past. 
All  that  men  have  devtoed,  dtocovered,  done,  felt,  or  Imagined, 
Ues  recorded  In  Book.;  wherein  who.o  haa  learned  the  m;.- 
tery  of  ipelUng  printed  letters,  may  L  d  It,  and  appropriate  It 

—  Caklvlk. 

In  books  we  find  the  dead  as  It  ware  llvliii,';  In  b<  oka  we 
foresee  things  to  come.  These  are  th  9  master,  who  ins^  ruct  ua 
without  rods  and  ferules,  without  hard  word  j  und  a.  i«r.  If 
you  approach  them,  they  Vre  not  aslee;  ;  If  Invent  '»ttag  you 
Intenogate  them,  they  conceal  nothing ;  If  you  mi..take  them 
they  never  grumWe;  If  you  are  Ignorant,  they  cannot  laugb 
at  you.— RicHAao  dk  Buky. 

Far  m<we  seemely  were  It  for  thee  to  have  thy  »ttd«e  fut  of 
Bookaa.  than  thy  Purae  full  of  money.  —  John  /  «  l  ; . 

We  are  now  In  want  of  «i  art  to  teach  how  ooks  ..  e  to  be 
nad  rather  than  to  read  them.  —  Dibra«li. 

Whorcjuto 
Incesaantly,  and  to  hto  reading  brings  not 
A  ai^rlt  and  judgment  equal  or  superior, 
Uncertain  and  unsettled  still  remainit : 
Deep-versed  In  books,  but  shallow  In  Idinaelf. 

Milton. 

A  few  books  well-studied,  and  thoroughly  digested,  nour- 
lib  the  understanding  more  than  hundreda  but  gargled  in  the 
mouth. —Francis  Osbornk. 


m*M»viiif^''  ■ 


■'*Wteiis6S 


252 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


Who  of  u8  can  tell 
What  he  had  been,  had  Cadmus  never  Uught 
The  art  that  fixes  into  form  the  thought — 
Had  Plato  never  spoken  from  his  cell, 
Or  his  high  harp  blind  Homer  never  strung  ? 

He  who  loveth  a  book  wiU  never  want  a  faithful  friend,  a 
wholesome  comiseUor.  a  cheerful  companion,  or  an  effectual 
comforter.  —  BAtKOW. 

Till  I  come  give  attendance  to  reading.  For  whatsoever 
things  were  written  aforetime  were  written  for  our  learning.  - 

SAINtPACL. 

WE  live  in  an  age  of  many  books.    The 
press  has  become  a  fountain  that  never 
intermits,   but  pours  forth  an  ever-increasing 
stream.    If  the  writer  of  Ecclesiastes  could  say 
in  the  third  century  B.C.,  "of  making  many 
books  there  is  no  end."  what  would  he  say  m 
the  present  time?    But  the  multitude  of  books 
coming  into  existence  every  year  is  not  prima- 
rily cause  but  effect.    The  supply  is  great  be- 
cause there  is  great  demand.    In  America,  at 
least,  the  habit  of  reading  has  grown  until  we 
have  become  a  nation  of  readers ;  we  read  every- 
thing and  for  every  sort  of  reason.    Aside  from 
the  ordinary  motive  of  reading  for  information, 
we  read  for  amusement,  diverting  ourselves  with 
the  record  of  million-fold  fact  and  fancy.    We 
read  for  consolation,  abstracting  Ourselves  from 


^mmJttM^miiitm 


Reading. 


253 


f€. 


lever  taught 
liought  — 
I  cell, 

ver  strung  ?  ' 

Lord  Lytton. 

nta  fidthful  friend,:  a 
inion,  or  an  effectual 


Ing.    For  wfaataoever 
en  for  our  learning.  — 


my  books.    The 
untain  that  never 
n  ever-increasing 
»iastes  could  say 
of  making  many 
:  would  he  say  in 
lultitude  of  books 
^rear  is  not  prima- 
upply  is  great  be- 
.    In  America,  at 
is  grown  until  we 
irs;  wereadevery- 
ason.    Aside  from 
ig  for  information, 
ting  ourselves  with 
:t  and  fancy.    We 
ing  Ourselves  from 


troubles  in  the  atmosphere  of  books ;  we  read 
for  stimulus,  taking  deep  draughts  of  the  wine 
o "  passion  or  speculation  distilled  in  romance  or 
poem  or  essay;  we  read  for  discipline,  sharp- 
ening our  minds  for  action  by  whetting  them  on 
other  minds  crystallized  in  argument  or  expo- 
sition. We  read  to  "  kill  time,"  and  we  read  to 
save  time, — borrowing  ideas  which  we  are  too 
Impatient  or  too  indolent  to  work  out  for  our- 
selves. We  read  when  we  are  well,  and  when  we 
are  sick;  when  we  are  at  home,  and  when  we 
travel ;  when  we  eat,  and  almost  when  we  sleep. 

From  one  point  of  view  we  read  far  too 
much ;  from  another  point  of  view  we  read  far 
too  little.  The  explanation  of  this  paradox  will 
appear  when  we  arrive  at  a  clear  idea  of  what 
we  ought  to  read,  and  how  we  ought  to  read. 

Reading  sustains  a  very  important  relation  to 
our  mental  and  moral  life.  An  analysis  of  the 
books  which  a  man  habitually  reads  will  reveal 
at  once  the  quality  of  his  mind  and  the  tendency 
of  his  character.  If  I  find  a  young  woman 
absorbed  in  the  works  of  Mrs.  Southworth  or 
the  author  of  "  Airy,  fairy  Lilian,"  I  am  at  once 
of  the  opinion  that  she  will  never  startle  her 
friends  with  the  profundity  or  originality  of  her 
thoughts.  If  I  find  a  young  man  devoted  to 
Emile  Zola  or  the  Police  Gazette,  I  am  not  sur- 


ii4iSglS^iM^m^smsS£mmmmmM^«^^wti^i^''f^i'^'^^i^»'^i^'''' 


.n^ 


The  Aim  of  Life. 

prised  by-and-by  to  learn  that  his  name  has 
appeared  in  the  records  of  the  criminal  court. 
"  It  is  nearly  an  axiom,"  said  Bishop  Potter, "  that 
people  will  not  be  better  than  the  books  they 
read." 

Consider  tlie  relation  of  reading  to  men" 
tal  culture.  It  is  evident  that  the  largest  and 
most  available  source  of  knowledge  is  that 
which  is  furnished  by  books.  What  men 
thought  and  suffered  and  did  in  the  remote 
past  is  revealed  in  the  language  which  they 
spoke,  and  the  inscriptions,  tablets,  and  papy- 
rus or  parchment  rolls  by  which  their  language 
has  been  preserved  and  handed  down  to  suc- 
ceeding ages.  The  human  instinct  for  making 
records  of  experience  and  observation  is  a  sort 
of  universal  reporter  whose  pencil  never  pauses. 
Art,  Science,  Travel,  Commerce,  War,  Govern- 
ment, Religion,  Law,  Pleasure,  Crime,  Love, 
Hate,  all  have  their  memorial  in  books.  Every- 
thing that  men  think  and  feel  and  do  sometime 
gets  reported,  so  that  a  single  library  may  epito- 
mize the  experience  of  the  race,  and  make  us 
sharers  in  it.  Time  and  space  are  annihilated 
for  us  by  books :  we  sit  by  our  firesides,  and, 
with  Homer,  gaze  upon  the  battle-swept  plain 
of  Ilium;  with  Eschylus  we  wander  by  the 
blue,  resplendent  iEgean,  listening  to  "  the  mul- 


tiliiwwwaiWiiiiMi 


mm 


his  name  has 

criminal  court. 

lop  Potter,  "that 

the  books  they^ 

reading  to  men« 
the  largest  and 
owledge  is    that 
cs.     What    men 
)  in  the  remote 
lage  which  they 
blets,  and  papy- 
:h  their  language 
ed  down  to  auc- 
itinct  for  making 
servation  is  a  sort 
ncil  never  pauses, 
■ce,  War,  Govem- 
re,  Crime,  Love, 
in  books.    Every- 
and  do  sometime 
library  may  epito- 
ace,  and  make  us 
ce  are  annihilated 
our  firesides,  and, 
battle-swept  plain 
e  wander  by. the 
jning  to  "  the  mul- 


tSSmmKM 


warn 


^SSBBBSSIm 


Reading. 


HI 


titudinous  laughter  "  of  its  waves,  or  kneel  with 
Orestes  in  the  shrine  at  Delphi,  shadowed  by 
the  inescapable  Furies;  with  Plato  we  dis- 
course of  Reason  and  the  Ideal  amid  the  groves 
of  the  Academy;  with  Caesar  we  penetrate 
the  forests  of  Gaul  and  Britain,  and  watch  the 
hordes  of  white-limbed  savages  fly  before  the 
iron  legions  of  Rome ;  with  Saint  Luke  and  Saint 
John  we  journey  from  Bethlehem  to  Nazareth 
and  from  Capernaum  to  Calvary  in  the  com- 
pany of  Jesus  ;  with  Paul  the  Apostle  we  trav- 
erse Syria  and  Asia  Minor,  and  hear  the  gospel 
pre:«ched  in  the  busy  streets  of  Ephesus  or  on 
the  templed  Acropolis  of  Athens ;  with  Newton 
and  Proctor  we  sweep  the  expanse  of  the  starry 
heavens;  with  Faraday  and  Tyndall  we  pene- 
trate the  secrets  of  Nature's  Laboratory,  and  with 
Lyell  and  Dana  we  read  the  ancient  story  of  the 
rocks ;  with  Livingstone  and  Stanley  we  ex- 
plore "the  Dark  Continent;"  with  Williams 
and  Gray  we  survey  the  antique  civilization  of 
China,  and  with  Miss  Bird  and  Miss  Scidmore 
we  ride  through  the  blossom-covered  fields  of 
Japan ;  with  Monier  Williams  and  Max^  MUller 
we  hear  the  Indian  priests  of  Brahm  and 
Buddha  chant  their  solemn  prayers.  The  world 
is  bound  in  muslin  and  laid  upon  our  tables. 
The  imagination  staggers  in  its  attempt  to  grasp 


^jssiammmm 


ism 


-J,.,Mltlll 


256 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


the  wealth  of  knowledge  that  has  been  stored  in 
the  printed  page.  The  Arabian  fable  of  the 
genie  whose  head  touched  the  clouds,  but  whose 
vast  bulk  could  be  compressed  within  the  nai?- 
row  space  of  a  fisherman's  flask,  has  been  out- 
done ;  the  power  to  read  opens  to  us  the 
treasures  of  universal  knowledge. 

"  Certainly,"  says  Carlyle,  that  master  of  book- 
writing,  "the  art  of  writing  is  the  most  miracu- 
lous of  all  things  man  has  devised.  Odin's 
Runts  were  the  first  form  of  the  work  of  a 
Hero;  Books,  written  words,  are  still  miraculous 
Runes,  the  latest  form !  In  Books  lies  the  soul 
of  the  whole  Past  Time;  the  articulate  audible 
voice  of  the  Past,  when  the  body  and  material 
substance  of  it  has  altogether  vanished  like  a 
dream.  Mighty  fleets  and  armies,  harbours  and 
arsenals,  vast  cities,  high-domed,  many-engined, 

they  are  precious,  great :  but  what  do  they 

become?  Agamemnon,  the  many  Agamem- 
nons,  Pericleses,  and  their  Greece;  all  is  gone 
now  to  some  ruined  fragments,  dumb  mournful 
wrecks  and  blocks:  but  the  Books  of  Greece  I 
Theve  Greece,  to  every  thinker,  still  very  literally 
lives;  can  be  called  up  again  into  life.  No 
magic  Rune  is  stranger  than  a  Book.  All  that 
mankind  has  done,  thought,  gained,  or  been;  it 
is  lying  as  in  ma^c  preservation. in  the  pages 


!5Si»ilitfttS»y«^.Mataja!ii>'i^Mt'iV'^^ 


been  stored  in 
fable  of  the 

3uds,  but  whose 

within  the  naih 
has  been  out- 
tens  to  us  the 
[e. 

master  of  book- 
ie most  miracu- 

evised.     Odin's 

the  work  of  a 
:  still  miraculous 
oks  lies  the  soul 
rticulate  audible 
Kly  and  material 

vanished  like  a 
les,  harbours  and 
d,  many-engined, 
ut  what  do  they 
many  Agamem- 
iece;  all  is  gone 
,  dumb  mournful 
ooks  of  Greece ! 
still  very  literally 
n  into  life.     No 

Book.  All  that 
lined,  or  been:  it 
ion. in  the  pages 


UK 


■bnirfaiiaJuliM 


Reading. 


857 


"■"UHt-.i^iJl-B" 


of  Books.    They  are  the  chosen  possession  of 
men. 

"Do  not  Books  still  accomplish  miracles^  as 
Runts  were  fabled  to  do?  They  persuade  men. 
Not  the  wretchedest  circulating-library  novel, 
which  foolish  girls  thumb  and  con  in  remote 
villages,  but  will  help  to  regulate  the  actual 
practical  weddings  and  households  of  those 
foolish  girls.  So  'Celia'  felt,  so  'Clifford' 
acted:  the  foolish  Theorem  of  Life,  stamped 
into  those  young  brains,  comes  out  as  a  solid 
Practice  one  day.  Consider  whether  any  Rune 
in  the  wildest  imagination  of  mythologist  ever 
did  such  wonder  as,  on  the  actual  firm  Earth, 
some  Books  have  done  i  What  built  St  Paul's 
Cathedral?  Look  at  the  heart  of  the  matter,  it 
was  that  divine  Hebrew  BOOK." 

But  reading  does  more  than  give  us  access  to 
knowledge ;  it  furnishes  a  most  important  means 
of  mental  stimulus  and  discipline.  If  our  read- 
ing is  wise,  the  mind  is  nourished  and  all  our 
faculties  are  developed  and  trained  by  what  we 
read.  Reading  is  not  absolutely  essential  to 
acuteness  and  strength  of  mind,  but  it  is  neces- 
ioxy  for  breadth  of  knowledge,  and,  for  most  of 
us,  it  is  the  necessary  means  of  discipline. 

The  influence  of  the  books  that  we  read  upon 
our  mental  habit  can  scarcely  be  exaggerated. 

17 


^mA 


ia»iiiiMfT[iiifii[rtiiHini 


258 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


We  form  our  opinions  from  our  favorite  books. 
The  author  whom  we  most  love  is  our  most 
potent  teacher;  we  look  at  the  world  through 
his  eyes.    If  we  habitually  read  books  that  are 
elevated  in  tone,  pure  in  style,  sound  in  reason- 
ing, and  keen  in  insight,  our  minds  take  on  the 
same  qualities.    If,  on  the  contrary,  we  read 
weak  or  vicious  books,  our  minds  contract  the 
faults  and  vices  of  the  books.    We  cannot  es- 
cape the  influence  of  what  we  read  any  more 
than  we  can  escape  the  influence  of  the  air  that 

we  breathe. 

2.  Consider  the  relation  of  reading  to  morals. 
There  are  books  that  have  no  moral  quality, 
good  or  bad,  —  such,  for  example,  as  treat  of  the 
exact  sciences;  Olney's  Geometry,  or  Hardy's 
Quaternions,  has  no  more  immediate  relation  to 
morals  than  the  multiplication  table  has.    But 
most  books  have  a  distinct  moral  quality  de- 
rived either  from  the  subject  or  the  author,  or 
from  both.    Works  of  imagination  derive  their 
moral  quality  chiefly  from  their  authors;  though 
this  is  by  no  means  without  exception,  for  some- 
times  an  apparently  corrupt  man  produces  work 
that  is  without  a  stain.     OccasionaUy  genius 
seems  to  transcend  all  conditions.     Works  of 
history  and  travel  derive  their  moral  quality 
from  both  author  and  subject.    Now,  as  our 


favorite  books. 

re  is  our  most 

world  through 

books  that  arc) 

)und  in  reason- 

nds  take  on  the 

itrary,  we  read 

ds  contract  the 

We  cannot  es- 

read  any  more 

e  of  the  air  that 

ading  to  morals. 
)  moral  quality, 
le,  as  treat  of  the 
;try,  or  Hardy's 
;diate  relation  to 
table  has.    But 
loral  quality  de- 
>r  the  author,  or 
ition  derive  their 
authors;  though 
:eption,  for  some- 
m  produces  work 
:asionaUy  genius 
ions.     Works  of 
iir  moral  quality 
;t.    Now,  as  our 


bEI5RBWS8P35?RS?W!SP?5v^ 


Reading. 


259 


mental  quality  and  bent  are  very  largely  deter- 
mined by  our  habitual  reading,  so  also  our 
moral  sentiments  and  tastes,  and  our  ideals  of 
excellence,  in  short,  our  characters,  are  pro- 
foundly affected  by  what  we  read.  The  influ- 
ence of  books  is  more  subtle  and.  if  they  are 
read  in  youth,  is  even  more  permanent  than 
the  influence  of  associates.  An  evil  companion 
may  lead  us  into  temporary  wrong-doing  from 
which,  in  soberer  moments,  our  whole  nature  re- 
coils ;  but  an  evil  book  penetrates  all  defences, 
and  poisons  our  life  at  its  sources  of  thought 
and  motive.  Examples  abound  of  the  effect 
which  reading  has  on  character  and  conduct. 
Many  a  boy  has  gone  to  sea  and  become  a  rover 
for  life,  under  the  influence  of  Marryat's  novels. 
Abbott's  "  Life  of  Napoleon,"  read  at  the  age  of 
seven  years,  sent  one  boy  whom  I  knew  to 
the  army  before  he  was  fourteen.  The  vicious 
novels,  such  as  "Claude  Duval,"  "Dick  Tur- 
pin,"  and  "  Sixteen-string  Jack,"  which  were 
still  current  thirty  years  ago,  made  many  a  high- 
wayman and  midnight  marauder.  The  chaplain 
of  Newgate  prison  in  London,  in  one  of  his 
annual  reports  to  the  Lord-Mayor,  referring  to 
many  fine-looking  lads  of  respectable  parentage 
in  the  city  prison,  said  that  he  discovered, "  that 
all  these  boys,  without  one  exception,  had  been 


.^..■^.^«.J...... 


360 


The  Aim  of  Lift. 


in  the  habit  of  reading  those  cheap  periodicals  " 
which  were  published  for  the  alleged  amusement 
of  the  youth  of  both  sexes.  There  is  not  a 
police<ourt  or  a  prison  in  this  country  where 
similar  cases  could  not  be  found.  No  one  can 
measure  the  moral  ruin  that  has  been  caused  in 
this  generation  by  the  influence  of  bad  books. 

While  youth  is  the  period  of  greatest  impres- 
sibility, and  therefore  of  greatest  peril,  maturity 
does  not,  of  itself,  bring  absolute  safety  from 
the  influence  of  corrupt  literature.  Character 
in  this  world  never  gets  beyond  the  possibility 
of  being  bettered  or  worsened ;  few  are  so  for- 
tified in  virtuous  habit  that  they  can  with  im- 
punity bring  their  minds  into  prolonged  contact 
with  an  evil  book. 

Some  years  ago  I  visited,  in  a  Western  city, 
a  family  with  which  I  had  been  long  acquainted 
in  the  comparatively. pure  atmosphere  of  an 
inland  village.  The  family  consisted  of  husband 
and  wife,  still  in  the  freshness  and  vigor  of  early 
manhood  and  womanhood,  and  two  beautiful 
boys.  As  I  sat  in  the  snug  parlor  conversing 
with  the  wife,  I  saw  upon  the  table  a  copy  of 
an  execrable  sheet  that  shall  be  nameless  here ; 
it  was  evidently  a  weekly  visitor,  and  in  some 
sense  representative  of  the  literature  that  was 
coming  into  that  home.    Soon  \  took  my  de- 


Hi 


mamaiMm&iiMimllimmk^^ 


A- 

!ap  periodicab  " 
:ged  amusement 
There  is  not  a 
B  country  where 
id.  No  one  can 
Ls  been  caused  in 

of  bad  books. 

greatest  impres- 
st  peril,  maturity 
(lute  safety  from 
iture.  Character 
d  the  possibility 
;  few  are  so  for- 
hey  can  with  im- 
>rolonged  contact 

I  a  Western  city, 
B  long  acquainted 
itmosphere  of  an 
isisted  of  husband 
and  vigor  of  early 
md  two  beautiful 
parlor  conversing 
e  table  a  copy  of 
be  nameless  here ; 
sitor,  and  in  some 
literature  that  was 
ooni  took  myde- 


Reading. 


361 


parture  with  troubled  and  foreboding  thoughts. 
Not  many  months  later,  being  in  the  city  again, 
I  called  on  the  family  and  was  met  at  the  door 

by  a  strange  face.     Asking  for  Mrs. ,  I  was 

told  that  she  did  not  live  there;  that  she  had 
left  her  husband,  and  they  were  divorced.  The 
beautiful  home  was  broken  up,  by  no  appre- 
ciable cause  but  the  vitiating  influence  of  cor- 
rupt reading  and  consequent  evil  associates. 
The  incident  left  on  my  mind  an  impression 
never  to  be  effaced. 

The  harmfulness  of  bad  books  is  by  no 
means  confined  to  those  books  which  are 
simply  unclean.  Many  a  man's  moral  life  is 
perverted  or  debased  by  books  that  are  not 
impure,  as  we  commonly  understand  that  term, 
but  books  that  inculcate  false  principles.  Who 
that  is  familiar  with  European  history  during 
the  past  three  hundred  years,  does  not  know  how 
baleful  has  been  the  influence  of  Machiavelli's 
"Prince,"  which  made  lying  and  treachery 
important  elements  of  kingcraft  and  diplo- 
macy. Disciples  of  that  book  even  declared 
that  it  was  often  the  duty  of  a  sovereign  to  lie; 
and  well  did  Philip  II.,  Catherine  de'  Medici, 
Charles  IX.  of  France,  and  even  the  great 
Elizabeth,  exemplify  such  teaching.  Indeed 
European   diplomacy    has    not    yet   entirely 


Tis^m 


363  Thi  Aim  of  Lift. 

outgrown  the  influence  of  the  Machiavellian 

*  'irreligious  books  also,  the  writings  of  cynics 
and    of    ignorant  or  insincere   opponents  to 
Christianity,  have  done  great  harm  to  many. 
By  the  propagation  of  false  ideas  of  religion. 
,uch  books  have  hindered  the  growth  of  a  true 
faith,  and  have  turned  many  who  might  have 
been  helpers  of  their  fellow-men  toward  Gc^ 
into  advocates  of   irreligion.     It  is  said  that 
Voltaire,  at  the  age  of  five  years  read  a  skcp- 
tical  poem,  the  impression  of  whjch  made  h,m 
the  arch-scoffer  of  his  century.    From  this  bad 
eminence  not  even  his  services  to  religious 
liberty  can  wholly  relieve  him. 

On  the  other  hand  good  books  have  exerted 
an  equally  marked  good  influence.  Benjamin 
Franklin,  when  a  little  boy.  found  an  o^d,<=°Py 
of  Cotton  Mather's  "  Essay  to  do  Good,  and 
from  it  received  that  impulse  toward  benefi- 
cence and  practical  morality  -''^^\^^\r^l 
than  his  statesmanship  made  his  life  lUustri- 
ous  and  his  character  an  inspiring  example  to 

American  youth.  •  j.  *i,at 

Let  this  thought  abide  in  your  mmds.  that 
what  we  read  surely  leaves  its  niark  «pon  ;»« 
for  good  or  ill.  It  is  then  of  utmost  import- 
ance   that  we  read   only  books   which  will 


^^^w^mmmm^^' 


—r 


Machiavellian 

tings  of  cynics 

opponents  to 

harm  to  many. 

eas  of  religion, 

rowth  of  a  true 

rho  might  have 

en  toward  God 

It  is  said  that 

rs,  read  a  skcp- 

irhich  made  him 

From  this  bad 

:es  to  religious 

n. 

oks  have  exerted 
ence.  Benjamin 
mnd  an  old  copy 
0  do  Good,"  and 
i  toward  benefi- 
which  even  more 
his  life  illustri- 
iring  example  to 

your  minds,  that 
ts  mark  upon  us 
f  utmost  import- 
Doks    which  will 


^!^^^^K!F^^^. 


s& 


Reading. 


263 


strengthen  us  in  sound  thinking,  pure  feeling, 
and  right  purpose.  Again,  as  the  number  of 
books  which  any  one  can  read  is  limited,  and 
for  most  of  us  is  quite  small,  it  is  specially  im- 
portant that  we  read  only  the  best.  It  is  not 
necessary  that  we  should  read  a  multitude  of 
books;  it  is  necessary,  for  our  own  good  and 
the  good  of  those  whom  we  influence,  thit 
what  we  read  should  be  worth  reading.  It  is  a 
virtue  willingly  to  be  ignorant  of  many  books, 
especially  if  one  seeks  to  know  thoroughly 
books  that  are  great  and  enduring. 

There  are  two  simple  rules,  easily  remem- 
bered, that  give  an  excellent  answer  to  the 
question  often  asked,  "What  shall  we  read?" 
These  rules  are,  First :  Read  only  pure  books. 
No  matter  how  great  may  be  the  genius  of  an 
author,  if  his  books  are  unclean  he  is  not  (it 
either  to  instruct  or  amuse;  and  those  who 
seek  intercourse  with  him  do  it  at  their  peril. 
Second:  Read  only,  or  at  least  chiefly,  great 
books,  —  I  mean  books  that  make  solid  contri- 
bution to  the  store  of  human  knowledge,  or 
impart  to  the  soul  a  strong  and  noble  inspira- 
tion. 

There  are  a  few  books  —  Plato,  Dante, 
Shakespeare,  Bacon,  Milton,  Wordsworth, 
Browning,  and  the  Bible  —  which,  thoroughly 


."Hi'-ia  "Uit '  !■ 


(KMH 


■kyrfkk 


964 


Thi  Aim  of  Lif< 


known,  give  to  the  mind  a  breadth  and  power 
of  thought,  a  grace  of  culture,  and  an  elevation 
of  tone  that  a  whole  library  of  ordinary  books 
cannot  give.  Most  earnestly  I  press  this  coun* 
sel:  Cultivate  acquaintance  with  the  great 
masters  of  the  English  tongue.  Get  Noah 
Porter's  little  volume  entitled,  "Books  and 
Reading,"  and  selecting  from  its  ample  lists  a 
few  of  the  best  works  in  Science,  History, 
Poetry,  and  Morals,  read  them  until  their  sub- 
stance has  gone  into  your  blood;  then  you 
will  be  rich  in  those  qualities  of  mind  and 
heart  that  make  the  humblest  life  noble  and 
powerful  for  good. 

Now  I  propose  to  give  you  a  few  thoughts 
on  how  to  rtad.  Very  many  fairly  intelligent 
people  do  not  know  how  to  read;  they  can 
pronounce  words  and  sentences,  and  understand 
their  general  meaning,  but  they  have  never 
learned  so  to  read  that  through  reading  the 
mind  shall  receive  knowledge  and  stimulus, 
and  develop  constantly  in  power  of  faculty  and 
breadth  of  view.  One  main  function  of  a  col> 
lege  is  to  teach  students  the  art  of  reading,  — 
that  is,  the  art  of  acquiring  useful  knowledge 
from  books.  The  disciplined  mind  is  the  mind 
that  can  most  quickly  get  out  of  a  book  what  is 
in  it  for  intellectual  nutriment  or  use.    One  of 


IWHW II'  III  III  I)  1 1 II II  miiiiiiiiiiniriiniiiimn 


Riodiug. 


965 


dth  and  power 
nd  an  elevation 
ordinary  books 
>re88  this  coun* 
ith  the  great 
le.  Get  Noah 
1,  "Books  and 
ts  ample  lists  a 
ience,  History, 
until  their  sub- 
ood;  then  you 
i  of  mind  and 
\\i&  noble  and 

a  few  thoughts 
airly  intelligent 

read;  they  can 
,  and  understand 
;hey  have  never 
igh  reading  the 
s  and  stimulus, 
er  of  faculty  and 
unction  of  a  col* 
rt  of  reading,  — 
iseful  knowledge 
nind  is  the  mind 
of  a  book  what  is 
t  or  use.    One  of 


the  very  best  results  of  his  work  in  college 
which  a  student  can  bring  away  is  the  trained 
ability  wisely  to  use  a  library. 

In  order  to  read  profitably  one  must  culti- 
vate, (i)  The  power  of  attention,  —  that  is,  the 
power  of  fixing  the  mind  upon  a  book,  and 
keeping  it  fixed,  until  the  faculties,  focalized 
upon  it  as  the  sun-rays  are  focalized  by  a  lens, 
burn  their  way  to  the  very  core  of  its  mean- 
ing. Reading  must  be  carried  on  not  passively 
but  actively,  and  even  strenuously;  the  mind 
must  work  if  it  would  receive  real  benefit. 
You  cannot  dawdle  through  a  book  and  get 
anything  valuable  out  of  it.  This  is  true  with 
reference  tven  to  works  of  the  imagination,  such 
as  great  poems  and  novels.  Indeed  such  writ- 
ings can  be  grasped  only  when  read  with  alert 
faculties  and  strenuous  attention.  Augustus 
William  Hare  said  in  his  "Guesses  at  Truth," 
"For  my  own  part.  I  have  ever  gained  the 
most  profit,  and  the  most  pleasure  also,  from 
the  books  which  have  made  me  think  the  most : 
and,  when  the  difficulties  have  once  been  over- 
come, these  are  the  books  which  have  struck 
the  deepest  root,  not  only  in  my  memory  and 
understanding,  but  likewse  in  my  affections. " 
In  a  similar  vein  Colton  suggestively  remarked 
that  "Many  books  require  no  thought  from 


'laiMMIM 


i|W<)liffiM»tM>Wr»WBWMMW»illlliilllllUIIWMii 


itn 


■smai 


tmmmmm 


mumasms 


266 


TAe  Aim  of  Life. 


those  who  read  them,  and  for  a  very  simple 
reason,  -^  they  made  no  such  demand  upon  those 
who  wrote  them.  Those  works  therefore  are 
the  most  valuable  that  set  our  thinking  facul- 
ties in  the  fullest  operation." 

The  fault  of  many  novels,  not  essentially 
bad,  is  that  they  do  not  rouse  the  mind  and 
give  it  exercise.  And  the  vice  of  many  novel- 
readers  is  the  habit' they  have  formed  of  going 
through  chapter  after  chapter  and  volume  after 
volume  with  the  mind  quiescent  as  if  in  revery. 
If  you  would  read  profitably  you  cannot  read 
lazily.  Many  read  innumerable  books  of  one 
sort  and  another,  and  seemingly  get  no  benefit ; 
they  increase  neither  in  knowledge  nor  in 
power.  Doctor  Johnson  once  said:  "Read 
anything  five  hours  a  day,  and  you  will  soon 
be  learned ; "  but  this,  like  some  other  of  the 
brusque  Doctor's  sayings,  must  be  taken  with 
considerable  qualification.  There  is  whole- 
some truth  m  Robertson's  words:  "Multifari- 
ous reading  weakens  the  mind  more  than  doing 
nothing;  for  it  becomes  a  necessity  at  last, 
like  sradcing,  and  is  an  excuse  for  the  mind  to 
lie  dormant  whilst  thought  is  poured  in,  and 
runs  through,  a  clear  stream,  over  unproduc- 
tive gravel,  on  which  not  even  mosses  grow. 
It  is  the  idlest  of  all  idleness,  and  leaves  more 


m 


mmmm 


ife. 

a  very  simple 
mand  upon  those 
:s  therefore  are 

thinking  facul- 

not  essentially 
se  the  mind  and 
e  of  many  novel- 
formed  of  going 
and  volume  after 
nt  as  if  in  revery. 
you  cannot  read 
ble  books  of  one 
jly  get  no  benefit ; 
nowledge   nor  In 
ice  said:    "Read 
Lnd  you  will  soon 
some  other  of  the 
iust  be  taken  with 
There  is  whole- 
rords:  "Multifari- 
d  more  than  doing 
necessity  at  last, 
ise  for  the  mind  to 
is  poured  in,  and 
n,  over  unproduc- 
iven  mosses  grow, 
s,  and  leaves  more 


iHMHi 


Reading. 


267 


of  impotency  than  any  other. "  The  true  art  of 
readii^g  he  thus  suggests  in  an  autobiographical 
note:  "i  know  what  reading  is,  fbr  I  could 
read  once,  and  did.  I  read  hard,  or  not  at  all ; 
never  skimming,  never  turning  aside  to  merely 
inviting  books;  and  Plato,  Aristotle,  Butler, 
Thucydides,  Sterne,  Jonathan  Edwards,  have 
passed  like  the  iron  atoms  of  the  blood  into 
my  mental  constitution. " 

Attention  in  reading  implies  both  aim  and 
endeavor.  What  do  you  read  a  book  for?  Ask 
yourself  that  question  and  answer  it.  Have 
a  definite  object  in  reading,  and  then  fix  the 
attention  as  if  you  were  digging  for  gold.  If 
there  is  gold  in  the  book  you  will  find  it. 
Exercise  the  judgment  while  reading,  and  fol- 
low Bacon's  wise  counsel :  "  Read  not  to  con- 
tradict and  confute,  nor  to  believe  and  take  for 
granted,  nor  to  find  Talk  and  Discourse,  but  to 
weigh  and  consider. "  But  to  do  this  you  must 
address  yourself  to  your  book  with  wide-awake 
faculties  and  tenacious  attention. 

(2)  System  and  continuity  in  reading  are 
requisite  to  the  b(»t  results.  Mere  nriscella- 
tteous  reading  has  comparatively  little  value. 
As  in  making  a  journey  you  have  starting- 
point,  course,  and  destination,  so  in  reading, 
begin  somewhere  and  go  somewhere  along  a 


mm 


mmaa 


268 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


definite  line.  Many  read  as  a  butterfly  floats 
in  the  air,  fluttering  here  and  there,  making 
no  progress  and  reaching  no  ascertainable  end. 
They  take  up  a  book,  read  a  few  pages  or 
chapters,  and  then  abandon  it  for  something 
else.  An  excellent  plan  is  to  read  by  subjects. 
For  example,  take  the  subject  of  the  Reforma- 
tion; then  read  Hallam's  "Middle  Ages." 
D'Aubigne's  and  Fisher's  histories  of  the 
Reformation,  Michelet's  and  Kostlin's  lives  of 
Luther,  Robertson's  "Charles  V.,"  Prescott's 
"Philip  II.,"  and  Motley's " Rise  of  the  Dutch 
Republic."  Or,  take  the  History  of  the 
United  States;  then  read  Parkman's  works, 
Bancroft's  "History  of  the  United  States," 
McMaster's  "History  of  the  People  of  the 
United  States,"  Fiske's  three  or  four  volumes 
on  American  history,  and  the  lives  of  Washing- 
ton, Patrick  Henry,  the  Adamses,  Hamilton, 
Calhoun,  Webster,  and  their  great  contempora- 
ries. Or,  again,  take  the  Rise  and  Development 
of  Christianity,  and  read  the  New  Testament, 
Edersheira's  or  Geikie's  "Life  of  Christ," 
Conybeare  and  Howson's  "Life  of  Saint 
Paul,"  Farrar's  "Early  Days  of  Christianity," 
Uhlhom's  "Conflict  of  Christianity  and  Hea- 
thenism,"  and  Schaff's  or  Fisher's  "History 
of  the  Christian  Church." 


ife, 

I  butterfly  floats 
i  there,  making 
jcertainable  end. 
a  few  pages  or 
it  for  something 
read  by  subjects. 

of  the  Refomia- 
'  Middle  Ages," 
histories  of  the 
Kostlin's  lives  of 
s  v.,"  Prescott's 
lise  of  the  Dutch 

History  of  the 
'arkman's  works, 

United  States," 
le  People  of  the 
e  or  four  volumes 

lives  of  Washing- 
amses,  Hamilton, 
great  contempora- 
:  and  Development 
e  New  Testament, 

Life  of   Christ," 

"Life  of  Saint 
I  of  Christianity," 
istianity  and  Hea- 
FlsUer's  "History 


Reading, 


269 


■-"""^^S^""- 


'>^0m 


Subjects  that  are  both  interesting  and  of 
practical  significance  to  all  intelligent  people 
are  innumerable.  History,  Science,  Art,  Poli- 
tics, Law,  Literature,  and  Economics,  with 
their  manifold  subdivisions,  furnish  inviting 
subjects  of  study.  Let  whatever  subject  you 
choose  be  the  end  toward  which,  for  the  time 
being,  your  reading  is  directed;  and  when 
you  have  chosen  a  subject  keep  it  steadily 
before  you  until  you  have  acquired  clear  knowl- 
edge of  its  general  scope  and  have  mastered 
its  main  facts  and  principles. 

(3)  Reading  with  attention  and  with  system, 
seek  to  possess  the  results  of  your  reading.  A 
few  books  thoroughly  mastered  and  digested 
are  worth  more  than  a  whole  library  skimmed. 
Taking  possessiou  of  what  you  read  is  not 
simply  memorizing  words  or  facts,  but  grasp- 
ing principles.  All  valuable  facts  are  but  the 
S3rmbols  or  illustrations  of  truths.  To  remem- 
ly-r  the  facts  without  grasping  the  truths  is  like 
treasuring  the  shell  of  the  oyster  while  the 
pearl  drops  into  the  sea.  Therefore,  in  seek- 
ing to  possess  the  results  of  your  reading, 
strive  to  discover  and  understand  the  princi- 
ples that  underlie  and  inform  all  History,  Art, 
Science,  and  Literature ;  if  this  is  not  achieved 
readily,  then  read  again  and  again  until  it  is 


UNKMU 


BaWg&tayMMywtiiH 


mmmm 


mmmmmmff&fMim 


270 


TAe  Aim  of  Life. 


achieved.  Two  or  three  things  you  should  do : 
Firsts  make  notes  of  important  facts  and  ideas 
on  the  margins  of  your  books,  or  on  slips  of 
paper  to  be  preserved  for  easy  reference. 
Second,  meditate  on  what  you  read;  learn  to 
ruminate  and  digest  what  you  mentally  receive. 
A  book  that  does  not  give  you  food  for  thought 
is  scarcely  worth  reading,  save  for  diversion  in 
an  hour  of  fatigue ;  and  a  reader  who  does  not 
meditate  on  what  he  reads  misses  the  main  end 
of  reading.  True  culture  is  the  result  not  so 
much  of  the  quantity  read  as  of  the  amount 
digested.  As  Thomas  Fuller  pithily  said: 
"  Thou  mayest  as  well  expect  to  grow  stronger 
by  always  eating  as  wiser  by  always  reading. 
Too  much  overcharges  Nature,  and  turns  more 
into  disease  than  nourishment.  'T  i.^  thought 
and  digestion  which  makes  books  serviceable, 
and  gives  health  and  vigor  to  the  mind." 
Meditation  is  the  true  preventive  of  mental 
dyspepsia. 

Third,  seek  to  get  at  the  practical  truth  of 
what  you  learn,  and  reduce  it  to  conduct.  The 
highest  result  of  mental  activity  and  of  culture 
is  improved  life.  The  end  of  truth  is  being. 
What  we  really  learn  goes  into  character.  As 
food  is  to  be  taken  up  into  the  physical  system 
and  transformed  into  blood  and  bone  and  tissue 


ii8iaiMW.<WJJMI»aii^i-i-^'^'' :  "g-' '--  >iaiS!gfJBi 


;r 


fe. 

you  should  do : 

facts  and  ideas 

or  on  slips  of 

asy  reference. 

read;  learn  to 

lentally  receive. 

food  for  thought 

for  diversion  in 

er  who  does  not 

les  the  main  end 

he  result  not  so 

of  the  amount 

pithily  said: 

to  grow  stronger 

always  reading. 

,  and  turns  more 

t.     'T  is  thought 

aoks  serviceable, 

to   the  mind." 

:ntive  of  mental 

>ractical  truth  of 
to  conduct.  The 
ity  and  of  culture 
A  truth  is  being, 
o  character.  As 
:  physical  system 
i  bone  and  tissue 


Reading. 


271 


and  forcf ,  so  thoughts  and  truth  are  to  become 
substance  of  spiritual  being  and  energy  of  soul. 
Let  the  history  of  the  world  —  the  struggles 
9nd  triumphs  of  men  in  the  long  march  of 
human  progress,  their  vices  as  well  as  their 
virtues,  their  mistakes  and  failures  as  well  as 
their  successes  —  make  you  better  and  wiser 
and  stronger  for  your  individual  battle  of  life. 
Then  your  reading  will  be  to  you  a  source  of 
power  and  a  means  of  growth  in  all  excellence 
of  heart  and  mind ;  for  not  simply  to  know  more 
than  you  did,  but  to  become  better  than  you 
were,  is  the  true  end  of  culture. 

I  now  venture  to  suggest,  very  briefly,  some 
things  that  you  all  ought  to  know.  The  sug- 
gestions are  meant  to  serve  as  guides  in  the 
selection  of  subjects  on  which  to  read. 

(i)  You  ought  to  know  as  much  as  possible 
about  yourselves:  about  your  own  body,  — 
its  structure,  capabilities,  and  needs,  and  how 
rightly  to  care  for  it  and  use  it ;  about  your  own 
mind, —  its  nature,  powers,  and  susceptibilities, 
and  how  to  train  anJ  employ  it  in  achieving 
worthy  ends;  about  your  own  soul, —  your  rela- 
tions to  God  ani  your  fellow-men,  your  weak- 
nesses and  strengths,  your  duties  and  destiny. 
In  a  word,  "  know  thyself  "  You  should,  there- 
fore, have  sor.  e  clear  knowledge  of  anatomy, 


■.T^r  >v^5»i*':^?TT^,-sKii?s'gKrwn  ■ 


aMBMi 


iMMai 


372 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


physiology,  and  hygiene,  of  mental  and  moral 
science,  and  of  religion. 

(2)  You  ought  to  know  much  about  your 
specific  work.  A  careful  study  of  your  own 
business  or  profession, —  be  it  farming,  mechan* 
ics,  trade,  medicine,  law,  teaching,  music, 
journalism, —  is  necessary  to  the  highest  suc- 
cess. There  are  valuable  books  on  all  the 
various  occupations,  the  best  of  which  you 
should  seek  to  know  and  master.  It  is  your 
duty  to  make  the  most  of  yourself,  —  both  God 
and  men  require  this  of  you ;  and  you  cannot  do 
it  unless  you  acquaint  yourself  with  the  best 
methods  and  the  be^it  attained  results  in  your 
chosen  vocation.  The  man  who  works  in 
leather  or  iron  ought  to  know  the  history  and 
uses  ot  those  materials,  or  he  works  only  on  a 
little  higher  level  than  the  machine  that 
blindly  stitches  the  one,  or  the  steam-hammer 
that  unconsciously  forges  the  other.  The 
young  woman  who  has  consecrated  her  fresh 
powers  to  the  noble  art  of  teaching  ought  to 
know  the  history  and  principles  of  her  art,  and 
seek  to  equal,  and  even  to  improve  upon,  the 
work  of  her  predecessors. 

(3)  You  ought  to  know  as  much  as  possible 
about  the  history  and  literature  of  your  own 
country.     The    institutions   in .  the   midst  of 


.ife. 

nental  and  moral 

luch  about  your 
iidy  of  your  own 
fanning,  mechan- 
teaching,   music, 

the  highest  suc- 
>ook3  on  all  the 
St  of  which  you 
ister.     It  is  your 
rself,  —  both  God 
and  you  cannot  do 
lelf  with  the  best 
;d  results  in  your 
n   who  works    in 
iw  the  history  and 
e  works  only  on  a 
:he    machine  that 
the  steam-hammer 

the  other.  The 
secrated  her  fresh 
teaching  ought  to 
)les  of  her  art,  and 
improve  upon,  the 

s  much  as  possible 

iture  of  your  own 

in .  the   midst  of 


W'!!JS':WIIH%'#>'-'  ' 


Reading. 


273 


which  you  have  been  nurtured,  the  laws  by 
which  you  are  protected,  and  the  liberties  which 
you  enjoy,  are  all  the  fruit  of  somebody's  think- 
ing and  suffering  and  achieving  in  the  past. 
Knowledge  of  whence  these  came,  and  by  whom 
they  were  wrought  out,  will  stimulate  true  patri- 
otism in  you,  and  give  you  a  higher  appreciation 
of  your  privileges;  you  will  thus  become  better 
citizens  and  broader-minded  men  and  women. 

(4)  Finally,  you  ought  to  know  something 
of  the  course  of  human  progress,  and  the  out- 
lines of  general  history,  ancient  and  modern. 
This  will  enable  you  to  understand  the  true 
significance  of  the  present ;  for  the  present  has 
its  roots  in  the  past.  Such  knowledge  as  you 
need  in  this  direction  can  be  acquired  with 
comparatively  little  difficulty.  There  are  man- 
uals of  general  history  that  are  sufficiently 
comprehensive,  and  at  the  same  time  brief,  to 
give  you  an  intelligent  idea  of  what  humanity 
has  thought  and  achieved  in  bygone  centuries. 
I  note,  as  an  example,  Fisher's  "Outline  of 
Universal  History;"  this  should  be  supple- 
mented by  such  series  as  "  Epochs  of  History  " 
and  "The  Story  of  the  Nations." 

The  chief  element  of  history  is  the  record  of 
the  great  facts  and  the  progressive  illustration 
of  the  principles  of  morals  and  religion.     It  is 

18 


The  Aim  of  Lift. 

on  the  religious  side  of  your  nature  that  you 
are  most  closely  and  most  vitally  related  to  the 
past.  For  the  awakening  and  the  intelligent 
development  of  your  own  religious  life  you 
need  to  know  both  the  history  of  revelation 
and  the  account  of  human  experience  as  shaped 
by  the  divine  purpose  of  redemption.  The 
true  significance  of  all  history  appears  clearly 
only  in  the  light  of  divine  revelation;  for  God 
alone  gives  the  key  to  the  problem  of  time 
and  the  soul.  You  will  miss  the  highest 
benefit  of  historical  study  unless  you  learn  to 
trace  the  hand  of  God  in  history,  and  the  gradual 
unfolding  of  God's  purpose  to  lift  man  up  out 
of  bestiality  and  sin  into  the  life  of  the  spirit. 
The  progress  of  the  race  is  the  slow  but  sure 
evolution  of  the  Kingdom  of  God. 

First,  then,  of  all  books  for  you  to  "read, 
mark,  learn  and  inwardly  digest "  is  the  Bible. 
As  history  alone  it  has  a  value  beyond  that 
of  any  other  equally  ancient  writings ;  as  fur- 
nishing the  true  point  of  view  for  the  right 
understanding  of  history,  it  is  without  a  rival. 
The  careful  and  habitual  study  of  this  sacred 
volume  will  be  fruitful  of  many  benefits.  It 
stands  above  all  others  as  a  means  of  moral 
self-knowledge,  of  inspiration  to  faith  and 
love,  and  of  instruction  in  the  aims  and  duties 


wammmm 


re. 

lature  that  you 

Y  related  to  the 

the  intelligent 

igious  life  you 

y  of   revelation 

rience  as  shaped 

lemption.     The 

appears  clearly 

ilation;  for  God 

vroblem  of  time 

iss  the    highest 

ess  you  learn  to 

',  and  the  gradual 

)  lift  man  up  out 

life  of  the  spirit. 

he  slow  but  sure 

[jod. 

or  you  to  "read, 
est "  is  the  Bible, 
alue  beyond  that 
writings;  as  fur- 
iew  for  the  right 
is  without  a  rival, 
idy  of  this  sacred 
lany  benefits.      It 
i  means  of  moral 
ion  to    faith   and 
tie  aims  and  duties 


Reading. 


275 


of  life.  As  a  manual  for  the  study  of  our 
mother  tongue  there  is  no  book  equal  to  the 
English  Bible,  with  its  nervous,  sinewy,  im- 
pressive, Saxon  speech.  The  Bible  is  also  a 
prime  instrument  of  mental  discipline  and  cul- 
ture. There  is  no  eloquence  like  that  of  the 
prophets;  no  religious  poetry  like  that  of  the 
Psalms;  no  ethics  like  that  of  the  Sermon  on 
the  Mount ;  no  spiritual  illumination  like  that 
of  the  Gospel  of  Sai.it  John. 

No  one  is  uneducated  who  is  thoroughly 
conversant  With  the  letter  and  the  spirit  of  the 
Bible.  That  great  and  precious  book  has 
trained  many  of  the  greatest  masters  of  literary 
style;  it  has  inspired  the  sublimest  oratory 
and  the  divinest  song.  Whatever  else  you 
may  neglect,  you  caimot  afford  to  neglect  the 
Bible.  If  men  tell  you  that  it  is  a  book  of 
fables,  tell  them  that  when  they  have  produced 
something  better  in  its  influence  on  human 
life  you  will  discard  it,  and  not  till  then.  Let 
the  great  truths,  the  lofty  sentiments,  the 
heroic  examples,  the  pure  counsels,  and  the 
inspiring  hopes  that  have  place  and  expression 
in  that  divine  and  indestructible  book  pene- 
trate and  possess  your  minds,  and  direct  all 
your  conduct;  and  whether  you  learn  many 
other  things  or  not,  you  will  at  least  learn  that 


-p. 


AMiMK-MW 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


which  will  be  of  most  service  to  you  while 
you  live,  and  of  iwcotest  comfort  when  you  die. 
And  now,  what  i^  the  grand  aim  and  end  of 
reading  ?  Is  it  self-improvement  in  knowledge 
and  taste  and  mental  power?  But  self-improve- 
n.ent  for  what?  Culture  may  be  selfish,  and 
selfish  culture  leads  away  from  the  chief  ends 
of  life.  The  aim  of  self-improvement  must  be 
the  better  service  of  God  through  bettered 
quality  of  life  and  heightened  efliciency  in 
serving  humanity.  AH  of  right  desire,  aspira- 
tion, impulse,  and  endeavor  terminates  here. 
You  belong  to  God;  in  His  service  alone  can 
your  true  destiny  be  attained.  The  grand 
motive  of  self-culture  is  divine  love ;  that  love 
creates  motive  both  to  know  and  to  do.  With- 
out the  love  of  God  life  loses  all  that  is  most 
hopefu'  and  uplifting;  with  that  love  comes 
into  your  heart  a  divine  impulse  that  will  not  be 
exhausted  here,  but  will  sweetly  impel  you 
toward  all  excellence  hereafter  and  forever. 
Time  is  but  the  opportunity  for  beginning  true 
culture.  That  opportunity  is  yours ;  it  is  offered 
to  every  soul  that  is  bold  enough  to  seize  it. 
No  adverse  circumstances  exclude  you;  the 
aristocracy  of  noble  mind  is  open  to  all.  You 
may  be  poor  and  hard-pressed  with  r'gorous 
necessity  of  toil: — 


fi. 

e  to  you  while 
:t  when  you  die. 
aim  and  end  of 
It  in  knowledge 
jut  self-improve- 
be  selfish,  and 
I  the  chief  ends 
vement  must  be 
hrough  bettered 
ed    efficiency  in 
ht  desire,  aspira- 
terminates   here, 
jervice  alone  can 
led.    The    grand 
e  love;  that  love 
nd  to  do.    With- 
5  all  that  is  most 
that  love   comes 
se  that  will  not  be 
ireetly  impel   you 
fter    and    forever, 
or  beginning  true 
yours ;  it  is  offered 
nough  to  seize  it. 
exclude  you;   the 
open  to  all.    You 
sed  with  r'gorous 


Reading. 

-  What  then  ?    Thou  art  as  true  a  man 
As  moves  the  human  mass  among ; 
As  much  a  part  of  the  Great  Plan 
That  with  Creation's  dawn  began, 
As  any  of  the  throng. 

"  True,  wealth  thou  hast  not  i  't  is  but  dust  I 
Nor  place ;  uncertain  as  the  wind  t 
But  that  thou  hast,  which,  with  thy  crust 
And  water,  may  despise  the  lust 
Of  both  —  a  noble  mind. 

«  With  this  and  passions  under  ban. 
True  faith  and  holy  trust  in  God, 

Thou  art  the  jv    r  of  any  man. 

Look  up,  th(  lat  thy  little  span 

Of  life  m.         well  trod  I " 


jiMtuiil 


ORTHODOXY.  , 

O.EAT  U  the  truth  «d  mighty  rfH,v  M  »»»»«g.. "  ^«'«"- 
DM  .»t.  und  l.t«.,  wM  torn  Cni.  glord-rt  wlrd.  Ut 
W«hrh«ittUtbe.  -  Goethe. 
Th.  .tudv  of  truth  I.  p«rp«tu«My  Joined  with  the  love  of 

Itt  befii^  *««»  •  lie.— Casauboh. 

Hold  thou  the  good ;  define  it  weU « 
For  few  Avlne  Phllo«)phy 
Should  puih  beyond  her  mwrk  and  be 

P,ocureMtoth.U,rd.ofHell.      ^^^^^.^, 

Shdl  1  Mk  the  breve  K.ldl.r  who  fighU  by  my  rid. 
K.  ca«.e  of  ««.kind.  If  our  cre«l.  .gee }  ^^^^^ 

V     «»ii  find  thet  It  U  the  modett.  not  the  preeumptuoue 
J^r^Ihtmi-JV^^^^^ 

rrhniw."^t°Hi.rs  ::J  m  hu  wo,.- 

*^""°"%or  hew.,  of  that  .tubbom  crew 

Of  errant  ealnt^  whom  aU  men  grant 
To  be  the  true  chureh  rolUtant ; 
Such  ae  do  buUd  thdr  faith  upon 
The  holy  text  of  pike  and  gun ; 
iVdde  all  controverriea  by 

Infaffible  artillery ;  ^v^„       , 

And  prove  their  doctrinet  orthodox 

By  apoatolk  blow,  ami  knock*.        ^^^^ 


I. 


iiUthlnp.  — ^w/'W'- 
nie  gdordart  wird,  Ut 

[>ln«d  with  the  lova  of 
lerivn  not  lu  original 
I  no  vies  which  haa  not 

na  it  w«U  s 

Br  mark  and  d* 

r  Hell. 

TemmyboW. 

0  fighu  by  my  M» 
:reed8  ag-ee  ? 

t,  not  the  preaumptuoua 
rogreaaln  the  diacovery 
ire  and  Nature'a  God— 
lu  and  In  Hie  word.— 


)bom  crew 
all  men  grant 
miUtant ; 
faith  upon 
ind  gun ; 
eaby 

inet  orthodox 
d  knock*. 


Birru»> 


nfmfffffSmi'.-.ri'T^r- 


r 


IfMGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


Photographic 

Samoes 

CorporaHon 


23  WIST  MAIN  STRHT 

WIISTER,N.Y.  14SM 

(716)87a-4S03 


j-»iK j^wnmniif  wnri  Tai.i>g»a*i  wifc^  dMu»KUi**i*«  ■.««*«  kw  «mi 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Instituta  for  Historical  IMicroraproductions  /  institut  Canadian  da  microraproductions  historiquas 


Orthodoxy. 


279 


Ueb*  iinmer  Treu  und  Redlichkeit  bis  an  dein  kUhles  Grab, 
Und  weiche  keinen  Finger  breit  von  Gottes  Wegen  abl 
Uann  wirst  du,  wie  auf  griinen  Au'n,   durch's  PUgerleben 

Danri^nnst  du  sender  Furcht  und  Grau'n  dem  Tod  in's 
AntUU  sehn.  HOlty. 

And  so  the  Word  had  breath,  and  wrought 
With  human  hands  the  Creed  of  creeds 

In  loveliness  of  perfect  deeds. 
More  strong  than  all  poetic  thought. 

Tennysom. 

So  let  our  lips  and  lives  express 
The  holy  gospel  we  profess ; 
So  let  our  works  and  virtues  shine 
To  prove  the  doctrine  all  divine. 

'  WATTS. 

WHAT  is  orthodoxy  ?    Few  words  have  been 
more  persistently  misunderstood  or  worse 
abused  than  this  really  noble  word.     In  the 
popular  use  of  it,  its  meaning  has  changed  with 
changes  of  time  and  place.     Orthodoxy  meant 
one  thing  on  the  lips  of  Origen;  another  thing 
in  the  pages  of  Atigustine ;  still  another  in  the 
dusty  pedantry  of  the  Schoolmen,  and  the  less 
worthy  dogmatism  of  sixteenth  century  Catholi- 
cism ;  and  yet  another  in  the  sermons  of  Luther 
and  Calvin;  while  in  our  day  it  means  some- 
thing   different    from   the    orthodoxy   of    the 
Reformation. 

The  Saxon  Bishop  Stigand,  in  the  days  of 
stout  but  ill-fated  King  Harold,  said :  — 


i 


aSo  The  Aim  of  Life. 

"  In  our  windy  world 
What  '8  up  U  faith,  what 's  down  is  hereiy." 

An  ecclesiastical  successor  of  Stigand's,  when 
asked,  "What  is  orthodoxy?"  replied,  "Orthcy- 
doxy  is  my  doxy ;  heterodoxy  is  another  man's 
doxy."  *  Both  Stigand  and  his  successor  have 
consistent  followers  to-day. 

As  commonly  understood  by  fairly  intelligent 
people,  "  orthodoxy  "  designates  the  prevailing 
belief  of  evangelical  Christians,  —  namely,  the 
system  of  related  truths  that  constitutes  in  sub- 
stance the  teaching  of  most  of  the  theological 
seminaries,  and  has  more  or  less  complete  ex- 
pression in  the  creeds  of  Protestant  Churches. 
By  some,  "  orthodoxy "  is   identified  with  a 
group  of  inflexible  dogmas  that  express  the 
hard  and    repulsive  spirit  of  an  exaggerated 
Calvinism.    Still  others  claim  the  title  of  ortho- 
doxy  for  theological  tenets  that  directly  or  by 
implication   are  opposed    to  Calvinism.     The 
word  often  has  been  prostituted  to  mere  party 
uses.    The  Greek  Church  adopts  the  distinctive 
title  of  "  The  Orthodox  Church."    The  Roman 
Church  makes  a  like  claim  in  its  assumption  that 
all  religionists  outside  of  its  fold  are  schismatics 
or  heretics.    The  Protestant  maintains  that  the 
title  properly  belongs  to  those  who  accept  the 
»  Bbhop  Warburton  to  Lord  Sandwich. 


m^m^imM:^^^^^^'^--^^"' 


'V 


fe. 

world 

I  is  heresy." 

Stigand's,  when 
replied,  "  Orthos- 
is another  man's 
5  successor  have 

fairly  intelligent 
!s  the  prevailing 
s,  —  namely,  the 
)nstitutes  in  sub- 
r  the  theological 
less  complete  ex- 
estant  Churches, 
identified  with  a 
that  express  the 
an  exaggerated 
the  title  of  ortho- 
lat  directly  or  by 
Calvinism.     The 
:d  to  mere  party 
pts  the  distinctive 
h."    The  Roman 
ts  assumption  that 
lid  are  schismatics 
Maintains  that  the 
le  who  accept  the 
1  Sandwich. 


Orthodoxy, 


281 


body  of  doctrines  accordantly  held  by  the  great 
divisions  of  the  Protestant  Church.  Within 
each  church  or  denomination  there  is  usually  a 
party  that  arrogates  to  itself  the  peculiar  merit 
of  orthodoxy. 

Leaving  aside  all  these  conflicting  and  par- 
tisan uses  — we  might  better  call  them  abuses 

of  the  word,  let  us  examine  into  its  root-idea, 

and  so  arrive,  if  possible,  at  a  clear  and  definite 
conception  of  its  meaning. 

Orthodoxy  is  a  compound  of  the  two  Greek 
words  0^96^  and  Ul^a.  'Op0<h  means,  (l)  "  up- 
right," as  a  column;  (2)  "straight,"  as  a  line; 
(3)  "  right,  true,  real,"  and,  as  applied  to  per- 
sons, "  righteous,  just,  steadfast."  Ao'fa  means, 
(i)  "expectation;  "  (2)  "opinion,  sentiment, 
judgment."  It  has  other  meanings  which,  how- 
ever, do  not  concern  us  now. 

These  two  words  are  compounded  in  a  verb 
which  we  find  in  Aristotle,  opOoBo^^.,  which 
means  "  to  have  a  right  opinion."  Thence  we 
have,  in  the  early  days  of  Christianity  when  the 
theological  tendency  began  to  develop  in  the 
Church,  the  word  6/»tfrf8o{o9,  which  means  "  right 
in  opinion,  sound  in  faith."  This  compound 
does  not  occur  in  tbfe  New  Testament,  but  6pd6^ 
does,  and  also  Wfo,  though  in  its^  derivative 
sense  of  "  honor,  glory,  praise." 


4efe*fii«a>'-. 


■^"•"•"•^^••SMUJBSI 


'nnjiiitBaKi 


1 

i 

1 

■i'j 

i  1 

The  Aim  of  Life. 


Etymologically,  then,  the  meaning  of  ortho- 
doxy is  right  or  true  opinion  or  judgment. 
Cleared  of  abuses,  orthodoxy  is  simply  right 
thinking,  thinking  according  to  what  is  right  or 
true.  Intrinsically  it  is  as  applicable  to  opinions 
on  art  or  politics  as  it  is  to  religious  beliefs, 
though  we  seldom  hear  of  an  orthodox  art-critic, 
and  never  of  an  orthodox  politician. 

But  universal  usage  has  given  to  this  word 
a  distinctively  religious  or  theological  sense. 
Orthodoxy,  therefore,  means  right  thinking  as 
to  religion  in  its  broad  sense.  Broadly  con- 
ceived, religion  includes  both  faith  and  morals, 
—  that  is,  it  comprehends  our  moral  relations 
to  God  and  our  moral  relations  to  men.  He  is 
orthodox  who  thinks  rightly  on  faith  and  on 

conduct.  ,         .         r  •* 

Now,  orthodoxy  has  been  much  used  as  i!  it 
were  in  itself  an  absolute  principle.     To  say 
that  an  opinion  is  orthodox  is,  with  many,  to 
end  discussion  and  inquiry.    But  this  is  a  mis- 
use of  the  term;  orthodoxy  is  merely  relative. 
Right  thinking  implies  a  standard  according  to 
which  thinking  is  just  and  true.    There  is  always, 
of  course,  among  intelligent  people,  the  tecit 
assumption  of  a  standard.    It  may  be  a  par- 
ticular creed  or  symbol,  as  the  Westminster 
Confession,  or  the  Thirty-Nine  Articles  of  the 


gm,^ 


.ife. 

leaning  of  ortho- 
sn  or  judgment. 
f  is  simply  right 
3  what  is  right  or 
iicable  to  opinions 

religious  beliefs, 
irthodox  art-critic, 
tician. 

iven  to  this  word 
theological  sense. 

right  thinking  as 
ie.  Broadly  con- 
i  faith  and  morals, 
iir  moral  relations 
)ns  to  men.  He  is 
'  on  faith  and  on 

much  used  as  if  it 
trinciple.     To  say 
:  is,  with  many,  to 
But  this  is  a  mis- 
is  merely  relative, 
idard  according  to 
e.    There  is  always, 
t  people,  the  tecit 
It  may  be  a  par- 
s  the  Westminster 
ine  Articles  of  the 


Orthodoxy. 


383 


Anglican  Church,  or  the   Apostles'  Creed ;  or 
indeed,  it  may  be  the  Koran,  or  the  sacred  books 
of  Buddhism.    The  member  of  a  sect  finds  his 
standard  in  the  accepted  symbol  of  his  sect; 
but  right  thinking  is  not  a  matter  of  sect  or 
party.    What  is  true  is  true ;  it  cannot  be  true 
for  one  man  and  false  for  another  man.    Is  there 
any  standard  of  right  thinking  with  reference 
to  man's  highest  concerns,  —  his  faith  and  his 
duty?    If  there  is,  then  that  is  the  standard  of 
orthodoxy.     I  cannot  here  go  into  a  discussion 
of  the  ultimate  basis  of  authority  in  religion; 
nor  need  I  do  that,  except  in  the  most  general 
way.    A  sufficient  standard  of  religious  belief 
and  practice  can  be  found  only  in  a  veritable 
revelation  of  God,  for  God  is  the  source  of  truth 
as  well  as  of  law.    There  are  not  two  standards, 
one  of  orthodoxy  and  one  of  righteousness ;  be- 
lief and  conduct  are    not    separable,  save  in 
thought,  for  moral  truth  and  moral  law  are  in 
essence  one.      Both   express  the    one   nature 
which  is  absolutely  good,  and  is,  therefore,  the 
ground  of  all  true  belief  and  the  spring  of  all 
right  action.    Apart  from  the  being  and  nature 
of  God,  there  can  be  neither  truth  nor  righteous- 
ness.   Our  commonest  moral  principles  have  a 
theistic  basis.     The  standard  that  jve  seek  is 
found  in  the  Bible. 


384 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


The  scriptures  of  the  Old  and  New  Testa- 
ments assume  to  give  an  adequate  revelation 
of  the  nature  and  will  of  God  in  His  relations 
to  humanity.     Christendom  accepts  the  Bible 
as  peculiarly  the  Word  of  God.     This  position 
the  Bible  securely  holds,  not  as  deriving  its 
authority  from  some  theory  of  inspiration,  but 
as  being  what  it  is,  —a  book  full  of  deity  and 
humanity.      Many  people  have  striven  with 
much   ingenuity  and  persistence  to  discredit 
the  Bible  as  the  authority  in  religion   and 
morals.     Fastening  upon  certain  features  and 
elements  of  this  composite  work,  they  have 
even  denied  that  it  contains  a  true  expression 
of  God's  relation  to  man.     That  such  efforts 
have    failed    needs    no    demonstration   here; 
their  main  result  has  been  to  stimulate  such 
study  of  the  Bible  as  has  made  more  and  more 
clear  to  the  world  that  here,  and  especially  in 
the  chief  personality  which  it  presents,  is  a 
spiritual  communication  that  authenticates  it- 
self as  divine  both  to  the  reason  and  to  the  heart 
of  mankind.     It  is  the  glory  of  Protestantism, 
and  the  secret  of  its  crescent  triumph,  that  it 
has  grappled  with  the  fundamental  question  of 
religious  authority,  and  has,  I  will  not  say 
exalted  the  Bible,  but,  in  some  measure,  has 
recognized  and  enounced  its  true  signiacance 


fe. 

md  New  Testa- 
i^uate  revelation 
in  His  relations 
xepts  the  Bible 
This  position 

as  deriving  its 
inspiration,  but 
[uU  of  deity  and 
ve   striven  with 
nee  to  discredit 
in  religion   and 
lin  features  and 
work,  they  have 
I  true  expression 
rhat  such  efforts 
onstration    here ; 
3  stimulate  such 
e  more  and  more 
and  especially  in 
it  presents,  is  a 

authenticates  it- 
n  and  to  the  heart 
of  Protestantism, 
t  triumph,  that  it 
lental  question  of 
i,  I  will  not  say 
)me  measure,  has 

true  significance 


Orthodoxy. 


285 


to  the  world  as  a  revelation  of  the  divine  in 
terms  and  conditions  of  the  human.  In  pro- 
moting, sometimes  by  destructive,  but  more 
often  by  constructive  methods,  a  clear  under- 
standing and  a  rational  interpretation  of  the 
Bible,  Protestantism  has  rendered  an  immeas- 
urable service  to  the  world. 

It  is  apparent  that  before  answering  the 
question :  What  is  orthodoxy  ?  it  is  necessary 
to  answer  the  preliminary  question:  What  is 
the  true  standard  of  belief  as  to  the  nature  of 
God  and  his  purposes  toward  man  ?  That  ques- 
tion is  answered  for  us  by  the  Bible.  I  assume 
that  you  believe  the  essential  message  of  the 
Bible;  for,  before  you  can  reject  that  message 
intelligently  and  honestly,  you  must  have 
destroyed  its  authority  by  proving  it  false. 

I  do  not  mean  that  you  must  have  found  that 
the  Biblical  history  is  not  infallible;  it  does 
not  assume  to  be  infallible.  Nor  do  I  mean 
that  you  must  have  found  records  of  facts  and 
events  that  belong  to  the  realm  of  myth  and 
legend,  and,  especially  in  the  earlier  books  of 
the  Bible,  expressions  of  defective  morals  and 
wrong  ideas  of  God ;  nor  do  I  mean  that  you 
must  have  demonstr:.  r^  that  long-current  opin- 
ions  as  to  the  authorsl  ip  and  date  and  struc- 
ture of  certain  books  are  erroneous,  —all  this 


^^gg^^H^fe? 


The  Aim  of  Life. 

you  may  do  without  toucnip?  the  main  ques- 
tion of  the  Bible  as  a  source  of  divine  authority 
in  religion  and  morals;  but  I  mean  that  you 
must  have  invalidated  the  spiritual  communica- 
tions which  have  their  culminating  and  unique 
expression  in  the  life  and  character  and  teach- 
ings of  Jesus  Christ.  This,  I  take  for  granted, 
you  have  not  done. 

Accepting  the  Bible,  especially  the  New 
Testament,  as  giving  a  true  account  of  man's 
relation  to  God,  and  a  true  expression  of  God's 
goodwill  toward  man,  we  have  an  adequate,  at 
least  the  highest  attainable,  objective  standard 
of  religious  thinking  and  believing.  It  is  not 
an  arbitrary  rule  of  faith,  for  it  appeals  to  rea- 
son before  it  commands  assent.  The  true 
conception  of  orthodoxy,  then,  is,  that  it  is  the 
correspondence  of  our  ideas  with  the  thoughts 
of  God  as  those  find  fullest  and  purest  expres- 
sion in  the  Christian  Scriptures. 

Of  course  the  thoughts  of  God  which  are 
discoverable  by  us  are  not  confined  to  the 
Bible;  but  for  the  clearest  and  most  spiritual 
knowledge  of  the  divine  nature  and  purpose 
we  are  dependent  on  the  revelation  of  which 
the  Bible  is  the  pre-eminent  vehicle.  This  is 
true  whether  we  consider  the  Biblical  writings 
as  products  of  express  divine  dictation  or  of  a 


fe, 

the  main  ques- 
divine  authority 
mean  that  you 
cual  communica- 
ting and  unique 
acter  and  teach- 
cake  for  granted, 

cially  the  New 
ccount  of  man's 
iression  of  God's 
;  an  adequate,  at 
jjective  standard 
eving.  It  is  not 
it  appeals  to  rca- 
sent.  The  true 
,  is,  that  it  is  the 
rith  the  thoughts 
id  purest  expres- 
es. 
:   God  which  are 

confined  to  the 
id  most  spiritual 
;ure  and  purpose 
relation  of  which 
vehicle.     This  is 

Biblical  writings 
\  dictation  or  of  a 


Orthodoxy.  * 


387 


spiritual  evolution  of  humanity  under  a  divine 
impulse.  The  Bible  gives  us  a  knowledge 
different  both  in  kind  and  in  degree  from  the 
knowledge  afforded  by  Nature. 

Besides,  the  Biblical  point  of  view  is  inter- 
pretative; it  gives  the  clew  to  our  spiritual 
nature  and  relations.  Mainly  history  itself, 
the  Bible  furnishes  the  key  to  the  history  of 
the  race;  it  opens,  too,  the  meaning  of  the 
material  universe.  In  it  is  spoken  that  word 
of  God  which  gives  us  insight  into  the  deeper 
significance  of  the  works  of  God. 

The  devout  and  earnest  mind,  instructed  in 
the  divine  thought  which  the  Bible  contains, 
sees  higher  and  sweeter  meanings  than  science 
alone  has  ever  discovered,  in  the  hieroglyphs 
that  shine  on  the  wide  scroll  of  earthly  land- 
scape and  starry  sky  Faith  discovers  in  sun 
and  rock  and  animal  and  plant,  not  that  which 
contradicts  science,  but  that  which  makes 
science  itself  worth  while. 

Orthodoxy,  then,  is  not  primarily,  nor,  per- 
haps, even  at  all,  correspondence  of  opinion 
with  a  specific  creed  or  system  of  theology. 
Every  creed  is  but  the  precipitated  thought  on 
religion  of  some  man,  or  school  of  men,  or 
several  generations  of  men,  put  into  proposi- 
tional  and  logical  form,  —  that  is,  a  creed,  while 


■'p?1f?»r?vp"^%^ 


288 


The  Aim  of  Lije, 


it  may  be  a  very  great  and  a  very  sacred  thing, 
is,  after  all,  but  a  human,  and  consequently 
fallible,  interpretation  of  truth.  It  is  there- 
fore incorrect  to  pronounce  any  one  orthodox 
or  heterodox  because  his  belief  corresponds 
or  fails  to  correspond  with  a  certain  creed. 
That  creed  is  itself  always  on  trial ;  it  has  its 
standard  and  justification,  not  in  itself,  but  in 
the  ground  on  which  it  rests.  The  Word  of 
God,  in  the  Bible  but  not  identical  with  the 
Bible,  is  the  true  standard  of  belief.  Apart 
from  that  Word  the  creeds  of  the  Church,  the 
decisions  of  councils,  and  the  exhortations  and 
anathemas  of  all  time  are  without  authority 
and  force ;  and  claims  of  orthodoxy  and  charges 
of    heterodoxy  alike  are    impertinent  if  not 

absurd. 

The  standard  of  orthodoxy  is,  then,  the 
revelation  of  God's  nature  and  His  will  toward 
man  which  is  given  us  in  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures, and  especially  in  the  person  and  teach- 
ings of  Jesus  Christ.  In  other  words,  the 
standard  of  orthodoxy  is  the  Bible,  taken  on 
its  highest  plane  of  spiritual  communication. 

If  we  accept  the  Bible  as  our  standard  of 
belief,  it  would  seem  to  be  an  easy  task  to 
determine  what  doctrine*  are  true  and  what 
are  false,  —  that  is,  what  doctrines  are  orthodox. 


1 


'  Lije. 

\  very  sacred  thing, 

and   consequently 

truth.     It  is  there- 

e  any  one  orthodox 

belief  corresponds 

h  a  certain   creed. 

on  trial ;  it  has  its 

not  in  itself,  but  in 

sts.     The  Word  of 

identical  with  the 

d  of  belief.     Apart 

of  the  Church,  the 

he  exhortations  and 

!  without   authority 

thodoxy  and  charges 

impertinent   if  not 

doxy  is,  then,  the 
and  His  will  toward 

the  sacred  Scrip- 
;  person  and  teach - 
1  other  words,  the 
;he  Bible,  taken  on 
al  communication. 

as  our  standard  of 
be  an  easy  task  to 

are  true  and  what 
ctrines  are  orthodox. 


Orthodoxy. 


289 


But  we  are  confronted  with  a  difficulty,  and 
that  difficulty  inheres  in  the  superficial,  or 
irrational,  or  partisan,  way  in  which  many  view 

the   Bible. 

It  is  a  common,  but  intellectually  vicious, 
fault  that  men  come  to  the   Bible  with  pre- 
formed opinions  which  they  proceed  to  import 
into  the  Bible;  or  they  look  at  it  from  a  single 
angle  of  vision,  from  which  they  see  only  one 
aspect  of  its  truth,  and  hence  are  incapable  of 
viewing  that  truth  in  its  large  proportions  and 
manifold  relations.     The  Bible  must  be  taken 
not  as  the  product  of  a  mechanical  dictation  for 
dogmatic  purposes,  but  as  a  vital  and  progres- 
sive  expression  of.  the  divine  life  and  thought 
in  human  terms  and  through  forms  of  human 
experience.     God  is  in,  not  outside  of,  human 
history.     He  is  in  the  experience  of  prophets 
and  peoples,  making  for  Himself  ever  clearer 
and   more  spiritual  expression,   until   m  the 
Christ,  "the  fulness  of  the  Godhead  bodily" 
appears    reconciling    the  world   to   Himself. 
How  great  a  book   is  the  Bible  thus  simply 
and  largely  taken!    It  reveals  God;  it  makes 
articulate  His  love  and  wisdom.     In  the  per- 
son of  Christ  and  the  wonderful  story  of  his 
human  life  of  toil  and  suffering  and  beautiful 
beneficence,  it  brings  God  near  to  us,  and  in 

19 


\&-i^: 


ar  ! 


290  Tke  Aim  of  Life. 

some    effective  way    comprehensible    to  our 
hearts.     It  gives  us  life  as  the  guide  of  life; 
it  demonstrates  the  divine  mercy  by  the  record 
of  deeds  that  perpetually  feed  the  springs  of 
human  charity,  and  keep  hope  alive  in  the 
heart  of  the  world;  and  it  exhibits  the  divine 
ideal  of  human  righteousness  in  a  character 
and  a  life  which  forever  invite  and   inspire 
imitation,   and  forever  rebuke  our  sins  and 
shame  our  follies,  and  turn  us  back  from  our- 
selves  to  the  power  and  grace  of  God  for  hope 
of  salvation. 

Tlie  Bible  not  only  presents  to  us  truths  to 
be  believed,  but  also  a  righteousness  to  be 
achieved.     Its  evident  aim  is  the  deliverance 
of  humanity  from  sin  by  the  power  of   an 
informing  holy  life.    Of  this  manifold  Scrip- 
ture Jesus  Christ  is  the  central  figure.     More 
than  any  one  else  in  the  history  of  the  world 
he  is  the  ideal  man;  and  he  is  this  because  he 
is  the  expression  of  the  indwelling  deity.     In 
him  God  is  immanent,  and  so  through  him  God 
is  revealed  in  a  way  at  once  intelligible  to  our 
minds  and  efficacious  to  our  hearts. 

The  highest  communications  of  the  Bible 
cannot  be  rightly  apprehended  by  the  reason 
unless  they  are  also  received  by  the  heart. 
Man  is  saved  by  loving  even  more  than  by 


^^E^SK.'fiKiiMfiAT 


H! 


Life. 

rehensible  to  our 
the  guide  of  life; 
nercy  by  the  record 
eed  the  springs  of 
hope  alive  in  the 
exhibits  the  divine 
less  in  a  character 
invite  and  inspire 
buke  our  sins  and 
1  us  back  from  our- 
ace  of  God  for  hope 

ents  to  us  truths  to 
righteousness  to  be 
n  is  the  deliverance 
^  the  power  of   an 
this  manifold  Scrip- 
entral  figure.     More 
history  of  the  world 
le  is  this  because  he 
ndwelling  deity.     In 
1  so  through  him  God 
ce  intelligible  to  our 
ar  hearts. 

Kitions  of  the  Bible 

ended  by  the  reason 

eived  by  the  heart. 

even  more  than  by 


Orthodoxy. 


291 


knowing;  hence  revelation  to  become  a  regen- 
erative moral  power  must  be  through  person- 
ality.    Faith  like  love  terminates  on  a  person, 
and  not  on  a  proposition.     The  appeal  of  the 
Scriptures  to  faith  in  Christ  is  entirely  rational. 
If  we  keep  clearly  in  mind  the  real  nature  of 
faith,  we  cannot  exaggerate   its   importance. 
It  is  only  when  the  personal  element  is  desic- 
cated out  of  faith  that  it  becomes  a  dead  thing, 
like  the  dogmas  to  which  fungus-like  it  attaches. 
The   Bible  certainly   demands  faith;  but  the 
practical   side   of  faith  is  righteousness,  and 
these  are  inseparable.     "  Faith  without  works 
is  dead."    A  belief  that  has  not  in  it  a  beating 
heart  of  pure  love  is  certainly  not  the  Biblical 
belief.     A  faith    that  does   not  make  desire 
purer,  and  motive  higher,  and  conduct  holier, 
and   character  more   beautiful  with  truth  and 
sympathy  and  charity,  cannot  be  an  orthodox  ' 
faith,  though  it  claim  the  sanction  of  innumer- 
able creeds ;  for  orthodoxy  means  right  think- 
ing,  and  right  thinking  is  only  the  rational 
side  of  right  living. 

Now,  it  is  only  in  taking  the  Bible  in  this 
large  way,  and  with  a  supreme  regard  to  its 
spirit  rather  than  to  its  letter,  that  it  is  mani- 
festly a  sufficient  standard  and  test  of  ortho- 
doxy; for  there  are  many  conflicting  doctrines 


'!^^.->, 


292  The  Aim  of  Life. 

of  theology  for  which  the  authority  of  the  Bible 
is  claimed.  We  are  to  determine  the  truth  or 
falsity  of  beliefs  by  reference  always  to  the 

Word  of  God. 

But  the  Word  of  God  is  variously  interpreted 
from  a  dogmatic  point  of  view,  and  the  result 
is  a  great  perplexity  in  many  minds.     Are  we 
in  need  of  some  test  additional  to  the  bare  let- 
ter of  Scripture?    What  shall  that  test  be? 
Shall  it  be  the  traditions  of  Catholic  Chris- 
tianity?   They  are  often  but  the  precipitated 
fancies  of  fallible,  and  almost  always  super- 
stitious,  men.     Shall   it  be  the  dicta  of    an 
"infallible"  pope?    Dependence  on  these  is  a 
confession  of  helplessness  and  despair.     Shall 
it  be  the   concurrent   thought  of   the  devout 
scholars  of  a  country  or  an  age?    August  and 
weighty  as  this  must  ever  be,  it  is  but  a  body 
of  opinions  that  are  subjected  to  fresh  trial  by 
every  advance  in  critical  knowledge.     What- 
ever help  they  may  afford  us  in  the  way  of 
instruction  or  stimulus  to  thought,  their  value 
is  chiefly  historical,  and  they  are  not  adequate 
to  our  need.     The  Christian  consciousness  of 
the  historic  Church,  quickened  and  made  wise 
by  that  spirit  whom   Christ  promised  to  his 
followers,  with  the  assurance,  "  He  shall  guide 
you  into  all  the  truth,"  is  a  stronger  safeguard 


I 


I 


Life. 

ithoFity  of  the  Bible 
irmine  the  truth  or 
;nce  always  to  the 

ariously  interpreted 
lew,  and  the  result 
ny  minds.  Are  we 
onal  to  the  bare  let- 
shall  that  test  be? 

of  Catholic  Chris- 
but  the  precipitated 
most  always  super- 
be  the  dicta  of  an 
idence  on  these  is  a 

and  despair.  Shall 
lUght  of  the  devout 
\  age?    August  and 

be,  it  is  but  a  body 
cted  to  fresh  trial  by 

knowledge.  What- 
•d  us  in  the  way  of 

thought,  their  value 
hey  are  not  adequate 
ian  consciousness  of 
kened  and  made  wise 
rist  promised  to  his 
nee,  "  He  shall  guide 

a  stronger  safeguard 


Orthodoxy- 


293 


against  error  in  the  interpretation  of  the  Bible, 
and  a  surer  guide  in  the  art  of  right  living, 
than  any  objective  standard  can  be.  The  com- 
mon, conventional  orthodoxy  denies  the  valid- 
ity of  the  Christian  consciousness,  and,  in  its 
dependence  on  infallible  dogma,  practically 
denies  any  real  function  to  the  Holy  Spirit. 

But  besides  the  Christian  consciousness, 
which  manifestly  is  subject  to  constant  tuition 
and  growth,  is  there  any  test  of  truth  which  is 
accessible  to  all,  and  which,  in  its  simplicity 
and  effectiveness  authenticates  itself  to  the 
sincere  mind  ? 

The  test  needed  is  furnished  in  the  influence 
of  doctrines  on  life;  in  the  words  of  Christ, 
applicable  as  well  to  principles  and  beliefs  as 
to  men :  "  Ye  shall  know  them  by  their  fruits. " 
Religious  beliefs  can  never  rightly  be  matters 
of  mere  curious  speculation;  they  are  impor- 
tant only  as  they  have  entered  into  the  blood 
of  an  individual  or  a  generation,  and  thus 
become  formative  forces  in  character.  Indeed 
they  are  not  properly  beliefs  unless  they  have 
thus  entered  into  the  mental  and  moral  life  of 
men.  They  are  true  only  as  they  conform  not 
merely  to  the  letter  but  to  the  spirit  of  God's 
.  Word;  and  their  conformity  to  the  spirit  of 
that  Word  may  be  surely  tested  by  the  results 


I 


-—    -   -■■t^--:-a^'?-?ty^'^- 


J 


294  I'hf  ^^^  ^f  ^if^' 

which  they  actually  produce  in  character  and 
deeds;  for  doctrines,  I  repeat,  like  men,  are 
known  by  their  fruits. 

Here,  then,  is  a  practical  test  of  orthodoxy 
which  the  Bible  itself  indicates,  and  which  to 
the  perplexed  but  ingenuous  mind  is  beyond 
price.     It   is  presumable  at  the  outset  that 
beliefs  having  fairly  and  fully  the  sanction  of 
the  Sacred  Scriptures,  are  wholly  good  in  their 
influence  on  conduct  and  character;    beliefs 
and  doctrines  do  not  exist  for  their  own  sake. 
The  end  of  all  doctrines  is  life.     Truth  is 
realized    in   being.      Orthodoxy  is    infinitely 
desirable    because    correspondence    of   belief 
with  the  thought  of  God  has  its  ultimate  result 
in  correspondence  of  character  with  the  nature 

of  God. 

In  testing  doctrines  by  their  practical  results 
on  a  large  scale,  we  need  an  historical  perspec 
tive,  —that  is  to  say,  the  doctrines  themselves 
must  have  been  held  in  the  minds  and  hearts 
of  men  long  enough  to  work  out  their  legiti- 
mate consequences  Keeping  in  mind  the  prin- 
ciple that  the  Bible,  rightly  understood,  must 
soundly  and  beneficently  affect  life,  must  make 
men  better  in  all  their  relations,  we  may  safely 
affirm  that  if  a  religious  belief,  whether  claim- 
ing Biblical  sanction  or  not,  has  an  evil  effect 


Sl^i*'.''- 


yiMilWi-i-UMII 


Life. 

e  in  character  and 
eat,  like  men,  are 

1  test  of  orthodoxy 
cates,  and  which  to 
us  mind  is  beyond 
at  the  outset  that 
ully  the  sanction  of 
vholly  good  in  their 

character ;  beliefs 
for  their  own  sake. 

is  life.  Truth  is 
odoxy  is  infinitely 
)ondence  of  belief 
IS  its  ultimate  result 
cter  with  the  nature 

leir  practical  results 
n  historical  perspec- 
doctrines  themselves 
le  minds  and  hearts 
ork  out  their  legiti- 
ing  in  mind  the  pr in- 
ly understood,  must 
flfect  life,  must  make 
itions,  we  may  safely 
elief,  whether  claim- 
ot,  has  an  evil  effect 


Orthodoxy. 


295 


upon  life;  if  it  makes  men  selfish  and  cruel; 
if   it  break*  down  self-restraint  and   induces 
immorality;    if  it  degrades  life  by  violating 
those  relations  which  have  their  centre  in  the 
home;  if  it  cramps  the  mind  or  corrupts  the 
heart  and  perverts  the  conduct,  —  then  one  of 
two  inferences  is  inescapable:  either  (i)  the 
belief  is  based  on  a  misinterpretation  or  a  per- 
version of  God's  Word,  and    hence,    though 
ostensibly  Scriptural,  is  really  unscriptural  and 
false;  or  (2)  the  belief  is  in  direct  and  obvious 
antagonism  to  God's  Word,  and  by  that  fact  is 
condemned  as  untrue.     Escape  from   both  of 
these  inferences  is  impossible. 

It  is  true  even  of  the  best  <rf  men  that  con- 
duct only  approximates  perfect  correspondence 
with  their  best  thoughts.  No  man,  perhaps, 
lives  as  well  as  he  knows.  A  true  religious 
belief  embodies  an  ideal  of  life  which  is  not 
yet  realized;  but  in  the  long  lapse  of  time  the 
character  of  the  aggregate  life  reveals  the  truth 
or  falsity  of  the  beliefs  which  have  moulded 
that  life.  Hence  the  importance,  not  only  to 
the  theologian  but  to  all  inquiring  minds,  of  a 
wide  knowledge  of  historic  life. 

Many  examples  might  readily  be  drawn  from 
history  which  impressively  illustrate  this  princi- 
ple.    Jesuitism  as  a  system  of  doctrines  stands 


— ^' 


296 


The  Aim  of  Life. 


condemned  before  the  bar  of  an  unperverted 
conscience  by  its  results.     Many  individual 
doctrines  which  have  been  held  by  P/otessed 
adherents  of    Christianity  cannot    abide  the 
judgment  of  experience.     If  Calvinism,  which 
for  three  centuries  has  exerted  so  powerful  an 
influence  on  the  thinking  of  Christendoni,  can 
be  shown  to  work  ill  effects  on  human  charac- 
ter and  conduct,  just  in  proportion  to  those  HI 
effects  must  Calvinism  be  condemned.     If,  on 
the  other  hand,  it  can  be  shown  that  Calvin- 
ism,    in    spite  of    certain  exaggerations  and 
absurdities,   has  produced    great  strength  of 
character  and  purity  of  life,  by  so  much  must 
it  be  approved  as  a  body  of  religious  doctrin^ 
The  same  is  true  of  every  specific  doctrine.    A 
man  is  not  orthodox  because  he  is  a  Calvinist, 
nor  heterodox  because  he  is  a  Socinian;  he  is 
orthodox  or  heterodox  according  as  his  regula- 
tive beliefs  work  good    or  ill  to  character. 
Nothing  is  so  orthodox  as  the  resolute  main- 
tenance of  righteousness;  nothing  is  so  hetero- 
dox as  the  practice  of  sin.  «    .       r 
The  general  principle  that  the  effects  of 
belief  justify  or  condemn  the  belief  may  be 
applied  in  a  limited  measure  to   individual 
life,  but  not  with  as  certain  results  as  when 
applied  to  men  in  the  mass.     An  individual 


Life. 

of  an  unperverted 
Many  individual 
held  by  professed 
cannot    abide  the 
f  Calvinism,  which 
rted  so  powerful  an 
f  Christendom,  can 
}  on  human  charac- 
oportion  to  those  ill 
condemned.     If,  on 
shown  that  Calvin- 
exaggerations  and 
great  strength  of 
:e,  by  so  much  must 
[  religious  doctrine, 
specific  doctrine.    A 
ise  he  is  a  Calvinist, 
is  a  Socinian;  he  is 
ording  as  his  regula- 
or  ill  to  character. 
s  the  resolute  main- 
nothing  is  so  hetero- 

that  the  effects  of 
n  the  belief  may  be 
easure  to  individual 
tain  results  as  when 
nass.     An  individual 


Orthodoxy. 


297 


may  be  a  hypocrite;  he  may  become  almost 
unconsciously  a  hypocrite.  Tennyson's  words 
are  not  mere  hyperbole  when  he  characterizes 
some  one  as 

«  So  false  he  partly  took  himself  for  true." 

But  a  generation  or  an  age  cannot  be,  either 
consciously  or  unconsciously,  hypocritical.  It 
may  be  ignorant  and  superstitious  and  mis- 
taken, but  it  will  not  really  believe  one  thing 
and  act  another.  Time  strips  away  all  masks. 
As  a  man  thinketh  in  his  heart  so  is  he;  and 
men  in  the  mass  are  sure  to  work  out  their 
convictions  in  conduct.  Mankind  may  hold 
false  beliefs  through  a  long  period  of  time,  but 
those  beliefs  will  really  be  held,  and  the  life 
of  that  period  will  truly  accord  with  those 

beliefs. 

Given,  then,  the  perspective  —  allow  suffi- 
cient time  for  beliefs  to  embody  themselves  in 
the  character  and  literature  and  work  of  a 
people  —  and  the  result  is  a  test  of  orthodox;' 
as  infallible  as  is  possible  to  man. 

Obviously  it  is  untrue  that  it  does  not  mat- 
ter what  a  man  believes  as  long  as  he  is  sin- 
cere; for  the  more  sincere  he  is  in  a  false 
belief,  the  more  surely  will  that  false  belief 
appear  in  practical  living.     Nor  is  it  any  evi- 


TAe  Aim  of  Life. 

dence  againtt  the  vital  importance  of  true  doc- 
trine that  some  good  men  hold  false  doctrines. 
There  are  such  anomalies  as  individual  men 
who  are  better  than  their  creed;  but  the  ten- 
dency, persUtent  and  inevitable,  of  creed  is  to 
shape  conduct,    and  a  wrong  creed  will,  ere 
long,   surely  produce  wrong    conduct      The 
Master  said,  "  Take  heed  how  ye  hear. "    Saint 
Pairt    the    apostle    said:    "Prove  all  things; 
hold  fast  that  which  is  good."    These  words 
are  for  the  present  generation.    Departure  from 
truth  will  inevitably  be  followed,  if  it  is  not 
accompanied,  by  departure  from  righteousness. 
Belief  and  life  are  inseparable.    Belief  makes 
life;   life  tests  belief.     As  the  world  grows 
older,  systems  of  religious  belief  are  undergo- 
ing a  trial  which,  while  it  puts  upon  them  the 
seal  of  truth  or  the  brand  of  error,  ever  throws 
clearer  light  on  the  Holy  Bible,  and  ever  more 
completely  demonstrates  its  fitness  to  lead  the 
thoughts  and  mould  the  lives  of  men. 

In  thus  making  life  the  test  of  orthodoxy, 
do  we  degrade  the  Sacred  Scriptures  as  the 
supreme  authority  in  matters  of  faith  and 
practice?  No;  for  it  is  the  agreement  or  dis- 
agreement of  beliefs  with  the  essential  message 
of  those  Scriptures  which  life  reveals.  A  bad 
life  finds  no  justification  or  defence  in  the 


.'•■iJeWBWWW'fR*""'- 


BHHHwW*  i^^P'W^^^^^'^ 


Life. 

irtance  of  true  doc- 
old  false  doctrines, 
as  individual  men 
:reed;  but  the  ten- 
table,  of  creed  is  to 
ng  creed  will,  ere 
ig    conduct.      The 
jw ye  hear."     Saint 
'Prove  all  things; 
lod."    These  words 
jn.    Departure  from 
illowed,  if  it  is  not 
from  righteousness, 
rable.    Belief  makes 
A  the  world  grows 

belief  are  undergo- 
puts  upon  them  the 
>f  error,  ever  throws 
Jible,  and  ever  more 
ts  fitness  to  lead  the 
^es  of  men. 
;  test  of  orthodoxy, 
jd  Scriptures  as  the 
atters  of    faith   and 
ie  agreement  or  dis- 
the  essential  message 

life  reveals.     A  bad 
1  or  defence  in  the 


Orthodoxy. 


299 


Bible.  Do  we  cast  doubt  or  contempt  on  the 
promised  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in  the  discov- 
ery and  verification  of  truth  ?  No ;  for  it  is  in 
the  faithful  exercise  bf  reason,  and  the  diligent 
use  of  all  rational  means,  that  the  promise  of 
divine  guidance  is  fulfilled  to  the  honest  and 
the  devout. 

Young  men,  seek  to  be  orthodox,  —  that  is, 
seek,  not  the  accord  of  your  opinions  with 
some    system  of    theology   considered  as  an 
ultimate  rule  of  belief,  but  the  agreement  of 
your  thought  with  the  thought  of  God.     To 
this  end  I  commend  you  to  the  holy  Jesus  as 
the  best  teacher,  and  exemplar  of  orthodoxy, 
and  to  that  spirit  of  reverence  and  humility 
and  sincere  teachableness  which  is  the  best 
qualification  for  learning  life's  highest  lessons. 
Remember  that  religious  beliefs,  in  order  to 
have  any  real  significance  and  value,  must  be 
positive  and  vital;  they  must  take  hold  of 
spiritual  realities,  and  they  must  take  hold  of 
you  :  and  they  must  be  wrought  out  into  con- 
duct.    Be  assured  that  a  holy  life  is  the  best 
evidence  of  substantial   orthodoxy.      A    life 
lived  daily  unto  God,  a  life  of  pure  and  gen- 
erous deeds,  a  life  of  cheerfulness  and  patience 
and  sympathy,  not  only  reveals  belief,  it  also 
verifies  belief;  nay,  more,  it  reacts  upon  belief, 


300  The  Aim  of  Life. 

ever  bringing  it,  and  with  it  the  believing 
heart,  into  closer  conformity  with  the  will  and 
purpose  of-  God.  , 

"  Think  truly,  and  thy  thought 
Shall  the  world's  famine  feed ; 

Speak  truly,  and  each  word  of  thine 
Shall  be  a  fruitful  seed ; 

Live  truly,  and  thy  life  shall  be 
A  great  and  noble  creed." 


THE  END. 


ifi    ■  mm  I  mmmeBommmfmm 


J 


Life. 


\   it  the  believing 
r  with  the  will  and 


I 


thought 
amine  feed ; 
h  word  of  thine 
■eed ; 
ife  shall  be 
creed." 


). 


1 


MOBS/tTS  BROTHERS'  PUBUCATtONS, 


THE 

INTELLECTUAL    LIFE 

Bt  PHILIP  GILBERT  HAMERTON, 

AVTHOK  or 

-A  Pdnter't  C«mp,"  "ThooghU  About  Art,"  "Tta  U«- 
known  River,"  "Chapters  on  Aninalt." 

S^yM  ItHW,  tMN,  gtH.    9*m  It-OO. 

PrmmlDiCkHMmUfiim.  ^    ^ 

U  M>HM|i«r»  tli4  ^T  -  iwMriMbU  book.  -  t|i»  |»«  g^^jj^fe*^ 


gniiiy  hk  tuM%  "r.  HwBMMi 


miiiM  oi  Ilia  I  •"<>.«»»,t-— i 


tte  owf  imoondMri*  *>«™'!*,.Jl^,SSi/^i^tio«,  oi  rrtn  wry  loi«i> 


S«<i#  ly  M  ao9k$»IUn.     Mmihd,  fupmid,  ky  tht  t^ 
ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  BotTOH 


"1 


J 


Missrs.  Robtrts  Brothtrs'  Pubticaticns. 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 

BY  WILUAM  ROUNSEVILLE  ALQER. 

AutlUr  »/  «  Th*  Pri»nd,hifs  of  lV»m4n,"  "  TAt  StlUudu  ^ 
Naturt  and  0/  Man,"  tit. 

16mo.    Oloth.    Prlot,  $1>00. 


It  oreiwils,  In  .triking  rhetoric,  the  ide*  th.t  the  centrri  purpoM  ol  Ufa 

^r'lil  wr.hould  r^ognTzTthe^sclpIinary  char,cUr  ol  event.  «d  ex- 
-riT^  We TtSted  to  K,me  extent  without  knowmg  U.  Ihe 
periences.    w*  ""  ~"~"™  ,,,„  .-j  apparatus  <uml.hed  In  thi»  world- 

SriTe  rJhlThS  rrtum.  of  Joy  «.d  power.  -  Educational  Journal. 

That  Life  i.  •  .chool  of  which  God  i.  the  Founte  "^f  "-^Jl^ 
«hool  rooms  the  nationi  and  humanity  Iti  pupils,  Its  teachers  desire, 
AcirUtor  exj«ience,  and  example,  with  their  les^ns  o  «.rgy. 
Sv  subm issioTwh,  and  love-,  with  rewards  and  punishmenu, 
S^S^  on.  «d  de^tl^ns.  acquisition,  and  failures,  that  are  p  «ed 
^n>  the  cerUinUes,  which  depend  primarily  upon  ourselves, -is  the 
S.  o.  thiTmtle  bix-k.  To  live  for  the  good  and  ^-f-''^^^^^ 
toThighest  point  our  intellectual,  moral,  and  physical  natures  ;  »»  '"^•' 
^  upward  and  onward,  evolving  finaMy,  out  of  the  *«8»  ""^  ref"^ 
Thun^nity,  the  perfect  type  that  shall  be  fitted  to  B^d".  «  "to  «« 
"  invis.ble  university  of  God,"  -  is  the  ^^'^^fj^'^'^f^'^^^^f^!:, 
the  refined  and  talented  author  of  "the  doctrine  of  a  future  life 
place,  before  yxt.  —  Art  Intirthangt. 


Sold  by  all  bookstlltrs;  mailed,  postpaid,  oh  rectipt  of 
prict,  by  the  publishers, 

ROBER  rS  BROTHERS.  Boston. 


II 


)F  LIFE. 


lAUH, 

(,,"  "  Tk*  StlUudu  tf 

I,  $i.oa 


At  the  central  purpoM  ol  lite 
the  term.  The  globe  l»  the 
onal  divliion»,  where  mUlion» 
pettoni  are  talks,  and  all  our 
ture,  art,  aoclety,  are  teacheri. 
l(e  here,  and  make  the  mo»t 
y  character  o(  event*  and  ex- 
it without  knowing  it.  The 
ratua  iumiahed  in  this  world- 
I  conform  to  the  regulatlont, 
rer.  —  Educational  JturHot. 

tha  Founder  and  Head,— lU 
I  puplU,  lt»  teacher*  deilre, 
rith  their  letfons  of  energy, 

reward*  and  punishments, 
>nd  failures,  that  are  placed 
irlly  upon  ourselves,  —  Is  the 
good  and  beautiful;  to  develop 
nd  physical  natures  ;  to  forever 

out  of  the  dreg*  and  refuse 
|)e  fitted  to  graduate  into  the 
jtiful  system  of  ethical  culture 
)  doctrine  of  a  future  life" 


i,  postpaid,  OH  rtciipt  of 


BROTHERS.  Boston. 


